


time falls away (in these small hours)

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Contains spoilers for little wonders, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, Missing Scenes, Olicity Sizzle ice-cream prompt, Olicity Sizzle retail therapy prompt, Pining, Post-Bunker Sex, Roommates, Season 5 AU, Season/Series 05, Set within little wonders, Side Stories, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy, maternity clothes shopping, oneshots and drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-07-19 02:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Missing scene and side-story oneshots and drabbles set within my S5 post-bunker sex AUlittle wonders (twists and turns of fate). (Will contain spoilers)Summary forlittle wonders: Oliver and Felicity's drunken mistake of a hook-up in the bunker comes with unexpected consequences in the form of a... souvenir.1: Telling Thea2: Maternity clothes shopping3: Oliver's 1st night in the Loft4: Felicity feels the twins kicking5: IKEA cribs and Mario Kart6: Chocolate Strawberries7. Release from ARGUS Medical8. Birth of the twins (Oliver's POV)9. Pregnancy Sleeping Troubles (Rated M)10. Thea, John, Quentin and William meeting the twins





	1. Telling Thea

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [little wonders (twists and turns of fate)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19436164) by [AlexiaBlackbriar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13). 



> heya guys!!! so a lot of you were interested in some missing scenes and side stories for my main project, little wonders. whenever i have time im hoping to write some short oneshots or drabbles. reading little wonders is sort of required and highly encouraged. tags will be added per each chapter added.
> 
> ideas are welcome!! but please don't have too high expectations - i'm a very busy person and might not be able to write your idea.
> 
> thank you!
> 
> this first oneshot is set after chapter 3 of little wonders and therefore contains major spoilers for that chapter.

After arriving home with two plastic bags full of Chinese food, as Oliver promised Felicity as they left their babies’ ultrasound, the blonde kicks back on the living room couch, exhausted both physically and mentally. She hasn’t done much today beyond going to the hospital for the pregnancy check-up and ultrasound, but the emotional rollercoaster she’s suffered on with Oliver nearly missing the appointment, finding out they’re having twins, and Oliver freaking out and coming very close to leaving Felicity alone, has tired her out.

“Here.” Oliver slides a plate piled to the top with dim sum and chow mein onto the coffee table. He also sets down cutlery and a glass of water. “Would you like anything else?”

She eyes him suspiciously. “Egg rolls?”

The archer snorts, and reveals the bowl he’s been hiding behind his back, with six egg rolls in it. “You thought I forgot?”

Beaming at him happily, Felicity pops one into her mouth, chewing for only a few seconds before swallowing. The flavor is divine. “Just checking.”

“You can have your bean buns after you’ve finished,” Oliver tells her. “I’m going to take a shower, maybe call the office about coming in late tomorrow. I was thinking that maybe we should invite Thea over for breakfast. I know you’re going to call her tonight and tell her about the twins, but she’s going to want to come around as soon as possible. If we plan to have her around, she won’t turn up unexpectedly.”

“Good idea,” Felicity nods, ignoring the chopsticks Oliver has laid out in favor of a fork and spoon. Although she’s skilled with chopsticks, the pregnancy has only made her even more clumsy and uncoordinated than usual. Plus, she’s so hungry she just wants to shovel food into her mouth; chopsticks are too finicky and take too much time to use. “I can’t promise there’ll be any food left after your shower. I’m starving.”

“I’ve hidden a carton of chow mein for myself, so feel free to finish everything else.” He squeezes her shoulder companionably before departing.

Felicity clears her plate far quicker than is likely polite, relieved that Oliver is gone so she doesn’t have to withstand his incredulous looks. Her stomach feels comfortably full and although she knows she could definitely eat more, she instead lies back on the couch. 

Stroking her dominant hand over her baby bump, Felicity closes her eyes and starts planning what to say over the phone to Thea. She imagines the younger brunette - who she once thought was going to be her sister-in-law - will be ecstatic. The two women got very close and became devoted friends when Felicity returned to Star City after Ivy Town. Thea was one of the biggest champions of Felicity and Oliver’s relationship, and has been heartbroken ever since they broke up. She’s going to be over the moon hearing about how her brother and friends are now expecting twins.

Felicity bites the bullet, pulls her cell phone out and calls her.

“Hey, Felicity!” Thea greets her cheerfully. “How did the operation go?”

Ah, right, Oliver told everybody at City Hall that he needed the afternoon off because he was supporting Felicity getting an operation concerning her microimplant.

“Hi, Thea. There, er, wasn’t actually an operation,” she admits.

Thea fake gasps. “So my brother is a lying sneak who wasn’t actually at the hospital with you? What a surprise,” she laughs. “He was most likely down in the bunker training those kids he’s decided to adopt and beat up.”

“Oliver doesn’t beat them up. At least… not too badly,” Felicity replies, amused. “And he was at the hospital with me. So he wasn’t completely lying.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Thea questions confused, “But if you weren’t having an operation, then why were you at the hospital?”

Felicity takes a deep breath and then announces gently, “Thea, I’m pregnant. Oliver’s the father. We were waiting until the ultrasound to tell everybody. You’re the first to find out.”

Thea screams down the line unintelligibly, utterly overwhelmed by excitement. Wincing, Felicity has to hold her phone away from her ear to avoid damage to her eardrums, but Oliver’s sister’s enthusiasm makes her grin. “Oh my god, I’m gonna be an aunt again, this is _amazing!_ I’m so happy for you and Ollie! How far along are you!? What’s the gender!? Is it a boy or a girl!? _TELL ME EVERYTHING, FELICITY!_ ”

“Calm down,” the blonde snickers, rubbing little circles over her stomach. “I’m thirteen weeks. Not far enough along to know the genders yet.”

“ _GENDERS!?_ ”

Felicity smiles at Thea’s audible flailing. “We’re having twins.”

“I can’t breathe, oh my god. This is incredible, this is - it’s unbelievable! Twins! Two tiny Smoak-Queen babies! Wait, does this mean - you and Ollie are -?”

“We’re not back together,” she quickly cuts in. Best to put that idea to bed straight away. People thinking that she and Oliver are involved again might be too much for her psyche. “This was - well. For lack of a better word, this was a mistake. Entirely accidental. Oliver and I aren’t back in a romantic relationship at all. Back in July, we had a very drunk one-night-stand. I, er, wasn’t on birth control and we were a bit too out of it because of the two bottles of wine we’d drank to think about… alternative methods.”

“You were both so wasted that you forgot about condoms.” Thea is wheezing with laughter at this point. “Of course. So I guess I’ll have to give the wine the credit for all of this, since you and Oliver had no idea this was going to happen”

“You could probably give the credit to Curtis,” Felicity responds. She casts a glance over at the kitchen, where the Chinese take-out cartons are sitting on the counter. They’re from the exact restaurant Curtis got the Chinese food from when he’d schemed to get Oliver and Felicity to spend the evening together in a romantic setting. “He’s the one who got us Chinese and wine and plotted the whole thing out so Oliver and I would be alone in the bunker for the night. He obviously didn’t plan for me to end up pregnant, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have expected us to… you know.”

“I’m sending him a gift basket,” Thea says, her tone decisive. “If you and Ollie aren’t together, then how is this going to work? I don’t need to kiss his ass for being an asshole and pulling his broody the-Green-Arrow-has-to-be-alone act, do I? He’s being supportive?”

“He’s been very encouraging and empathetic so far, excluding one or two little hiccups,” Felicity tells her honestly. “Oliver’s not my romantic partner, Thea, but we’re still best friends and we’re roommates, which will hopefully make this easier. We’re going to be co-parenting.”

Thea’s voice is dubious as she repeats, “Hiccups?”

She wonders for a moment whether or not she should mention to Thea about Oliver turning up late to the ultrasound, but then figures that Oliver has enough on his mind right now, and is struggling already with everything he has to deal with - he doesn’t need his little sister yelling at him. Instead of answering Thea’s question, she asks, “Would you like to join Oliver and me for breakfast tomorrow morning to talk about all of this some more? We can show you the ultrasound pictures. You’re going to be an awesome aunt to the twins and we’d love for you to be involved in all of this. Oliver is great and all, but he’s a man, and I kind of feel uncomfortable asking him to assist with the lady stuff, like buying maternity clothes. A woman’s energy around me would really help alleviate my stress.”

“Girl, I’m so there for you, for whatever you want or need,” Thea gushes. “And I’m totally in for breakfast tomorrow. Ollie’s probably trying to get you on a health kick, right? I’ll bring you some of those triple chocolate muffins you love from the bakery next to City Hall.”

Felicity almost bursts into tears, because god, she adores those muffins, and yes, Oliver has been cutting back her sugar content. There’s nothing more she wants right now than foods that can be labeled triple chocolate. “You’re a saint.”

“I love you too. Is Oliver there? Can I speak to him?”

She’s about to answer the negative, when the archer appears to loom over her shoulder. He’s just emerged from the bathroom, judging by his appearance; his t-shirt has some damp patches and his hair is wet and wild, sticking up in all directions. The pleasant smell of pomegranates wafts from his body as Oliver leans over to pass her a bowl in exchange for the cell phone.

Felicity peers down into it - and actually does begin to quietly cry. Oliver has served her three red bean buns with two huge scoops of his homemade vanilla ice cream. She turns around to thank him whole-heartedly, but the archer is already walking away, chatting to Thea animatedly. There’s a skip in his step, a wide, bright grin on his face and a sunny gleam in his sparkling blue eyes; Felicity hasn’t seen him this jovial in months, and yet he’s been looking happy and untroubled quite a lot recently, since the news of the pregnancy.

Digging into the buns and ice cream, Felicity switches on the TV on low volume, flicking through the channels until she determines that nothing good is on, and turns on Netflix. It takes a while for her to select a movie she wants to watch, and in the end, Oliver returns to the living room just as the starting credits for Disney’s _Mulan_ come up on the screen and Felicity is licking her bowl clean of the last drops of melted ice cream.

“Thea wants you to know that it’s okay if we don’t use Thea or Theo as a middle name,” the archer smirks.

“How generous of her,” Felicity says, deliberately putting on a fancy accent, for no other reason apart from having fun.

Spotting that she’s finished her dessert, Oliver backs off to the kitchen to grab more ice cream from the freezer, scooping some more into her bowl and topping it off with a handful of sour Skittles and crunchy M&Ms. “Thea also told me that I’m a monster not letting you eat candy when you’re pregnant with my kids.” Mocking her posh voice and adding an excellent Brtish accent on top, he continues, “I sincerely apologize for any displeasure I may have precipitated.”

Felicity groans, tipping her head back as she spoons some of the delicious sweetness into her mouth. “You’re the best,” she manages to get out, the sentence slightly garbled because of her chewing.

Oliver’s lips tick up into a pleased smile. “Thea will arrive at seven am tomorrow.”

“I take it back; you’re evil.” She hasn’t woken up any time before eight am since getting pregnant. “I’m eating breakfast in my pajamas.”

“Fair enough.”

“I won’t even brush my hair.”

“Entirely understandable.”

She huffs, because how dare Oliver be so sympathetic and kind. Felicity doesn’t say anything else and just sits back with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Slipping on the couch beside her, the archer turns the TV’s volume up and settles into the cushions to watch Mulan alongside her. Once Felicity has finished her bowl, she passes it over to him wordlessly, and Oliver takes it so he can put it down on the floor by the side of the couch, to place in the sink later. And then, Oliver takes a hold of her legs and maneuvers her so she’s lying down comfortably, her feet in his lap - and he starts to massage them. Felicity’s eyes flutter shut in gratification and a whimper escapes her throat, which makes the archer chuckle. He gently brushes the fingers of one hand over her belly before returning to his masseur duties.

“You know, you’re pretty great at this,” Felicity sighs, relieved as the aches and pains which have been plaguing her feet all day begin to fade.

“And what’s ‘this’?”

“Hmm, being nice to the woman you got pregnant.” She cracks one eye open. “You’re a good man, Oliver.”

“Thank you.” His cheeks flush at her praise.

“... You’d be an even better man if you got me more ice cream.”

He tuts at her. “Don’t push your luck.”


	2. Maternity Clothes Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set before little wonders chapter 5. spoilers for the first 4 chapters. for the olicity summer sizzle retail therapy prompt

“What do you think, the red or the blue?”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Oliver. Red or blue?”

“Um. I don’t know. Both?”

Felicity sighs, dropping both her arms down so the two different dresses she’s holding up flap against her sides. “You’re meant to be helping me pick out maternity clothes.”

Oliver just stares at her helplessly. He’s been following Felicity around the Starcourt Mall like a lost puppy as she shops for the last two hours, utterly miserable. He told her that she can buy as many clothes as she wants and needs using his credit card, but doesn’t seem to know a single thing about women’s fashion. Currently, they’re in Macy’s, and he has his arms held out with a pile of clothes on top, shopping bags hanging from his wrists. Felicity is carrying around his spawn, so it’s only fair he carries her shopping.

“Thea’s the one who’s good at picking out clothes, not me,” Oliver says, rather sulkily. “I still don’t see why she or Evelyn couldn’t come with you instead.”

Felicity shakes her head, deciding on the red dress - _Oliver likes it when she wears red_ \- and draping it on top of Oliver’s pile. “Thea is in Central City right now on your behalf to represent the Star City mayoral office, and Evelyn’s training with Rory and Rene.” Hearing him grumble under his breath about how she could have waited another week until they were free, she pouts at him and whines, “I really need this, Oliver. This is retail therapy for me; I can’t stand just sitting in the bunker and at home in the Loft in sweatpants and pajamas as my clothes slowly start to get too tight because of the twins turning me into a whale. And don’t knock yourself - you’ve got a sense of style, whether you realize it or not.”

“Yeah, I know what goes well with a pair of jeans, and I can pull off a good suit -”

“ - more than just pull off,” Felicity mutters, remembering those form-fitting tuxes Oliver used to wear to functions and galas that made him look absolutely sinful. “C’mon, I think I’ve got enough outfits for now.”

“So we can leave?” Oliver asks, his eyes widening with hope.

“Not until I try everything on.”

The dejected expression on the archer’s face makes her laugh. He traipses behind her all the way to the changing rooms and stands outside her cubicle as she tries things on. There’s a couple of dresses she needs help zipping up at the back, as she can’t twist around when she has this baby bump. She can’t feel the twins moving properly yet - she just gets swooping sensations, that indicate them moving about - but they’re definitely making her show; she’s already bigger than she would like to be. When he’s not aiding her with the zippers, Oliver just waits awkwardly, acting as a human clothing hanger as she decides what clothes to buy.

“What do you think about this outfit?” she asks, opening the door to show him the black jeggings and flowy teal tunic shirt she’s trying on.

“Yeah, it looks nice,” he says lamely.

Felicity narrows her eyes at him. “Do you think this top makes me look fat?”

Oliver startles like a deer in the headlights. “N-No, of course not,” he stammers. “I said you look nice.”

“Just nice?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Pretty,” he tries to correct himself.

“Pretty?” Felicity repeats, injecting some false disappointment into her voice.

“Beautiful! You - you look beautiful.”

Smoothing the shirt down, Felicity decides that these are keepers and darts back inside the cubicle, passing the clothes out to Oliver so can place them on the buy pile. Then, she shimmies into a backless dress that accentuates her baby bump curves, that she’s likely to wear to their holiday party that’s coming up. It’s emerald green and fits comfortably, with the fabric being quite breathable and soft. She thinks, however, that the color might be too on the nose.

“What do you think of this one?” She steps out in front of Oliver, stroking her hand over her swollen stomach as she twirls, showing the dress off. “For the holiday party?”

Oliver doesn’t respond, so she glances up in conclusion and sees that his face has turned a strange shade of red, his cheeks flushed. His blue eyes flicker up and down her body; Felicity raises an eyebrow when she spots his tongue licking over his lips as he swallows nervously.

“Yes,” he says tightly. “It… good.”

Felicity stares at him incredulously. “‘It good’?”

“You should get that one and try on something else,” he suggests suddenly, clearing his throat and aiming his eyes upwards.

For a split second, Felicity is confused why he seems to be so embarrassed, but then Oliver shifts on his feet anxiously, angling himself away from her, and she _realizes_. He’s getting turned on from seeing her in this dress. Now embarrassed herself, Felicity shuffles back into the cubicle, her face aflame. It wasn’t her intention to cause any sexual tension, especially when things between them lately have been great, as they maintain their steady, expecting parents but staying best friends status. She changes into some elasticated pants and another flowy shirt, this one a pleasant fuschia color.

Oliver relaxes instantly when she emerges in something a lot more modest than the green backless dress. “Those pants look comfy,” he comments.

“They are,” she agrees. “I might get a couple of pairs. I think I’m done trying stuff on. Give me five minutes and then we’ll go to the food court and get some lunch.”

“It’s only eleven am.”

“The twins are hungry,” she shrugs.

All she has to do is flash some pleading puppy eyes and Oliver immediately gives in. “Okay, we’ll get brunch.”

The archer heads off to pick up another two pairs of elasticated pants for her and pay for all the clothes, while Felicity wrestles herself back into the leggings and top she’s been wearing all day. Her top is too short now because of her baby bump, so she’s been wearing one of Oliver’s blue Henleys over the top, rolling up the sleeves. Oliver is having a conversation with the cashier when she emerges from the changing rooms; the man seems to be trying to convince the archer to sign up for a rewards card. Felicity snags his arm and fakes morning sickness so they can get away cleanly.

Once Felicity has stuffed herself full of churros, grilled cheese, and a lemon sherbet cooler, and Oliver has finished the singular apple he’s been snacking on, they head over to Bath and Body Works to get some more bath salts. She’s been having hour-long hot baths in the evenings recently before they go to the bunker for patrols with different bath salts, to soothe her aching back. She’s become very fond of lavender-scented candles as well, and there’s currently a sale on, so without her even needing to ask him, Oliver places half a dozen of the candles in their basket.

When Felicity ducks briefly into Victoria’s Secret to grab some underwear, Oliver hurries off, telling her that he needs to visit a shop on his own. He’s back within ten minutes and shows her the special herbal teas he’s bought from Chatime Tea for her, that the tea specialist inside said will help her with reducing pregnancy bloating and nausea. Touched, Felicity kisses his cheek in thanks.

There’s a new specialty maternity store called Seraphine that’s opened up recently, and Felicity tells Oliver that she wants to go inside to look at nursing bras and this body lotion that’s just hit the market, that acts as a cooling cream, nipple balm and moisturizer all in one. Seeing how he looks a little uneasy at the thought, she suggests that he wait outside with the rest of their bags, but Oliver insists on coming with her to support her. It’s hilarious how the archer looks like a fish out of water as she starts examining different kinds of nursing bras. One of the store attendants slides up and begins helping her out, giving Oliver the opportunity to back out.

“Your husband is very good to come in here with you,” the attendant, called Mandy, whispers, as she passes nursing bras over the top of the cubicle.

By some miracle, she doesn’t recognize Oliver at all as Star City’s mayor - maybe it’s because Oliver’s let his scruff grow out a little longer than usual, and cut his hair short. Felicity isn’t going to buy any of the bras today, as the attendant warns her that her boobs are going to get bigger since she’s still reasonably early in her pregnancy, but she can work out which ones are the most comfortable for her.

“Usually, the husbands refuse to even step over the store threshold," Mandy continues.

“Oh, he’s not my husband,” Felicity calls.

“I’m sorry! Your boyfriend, then.”

She wonders for a moment whether she should correct Mandy again, but then reckons it might make things awkward. “Yeah, he’s a great guy. He’s been super sweet during the pregnancy so far.”

“He’s definitely a keeper,” Mandy sighs dreamily. “I bet he’s going to be a fantastic dad.”

Felicity smiles to herself. “Yeah, he is.”

Oliver and Felicity stop off in the Shake Shack for concrete milkshakes before calling it a day, the archer balancing ten different shopping bags from his arms as they walk back out to the parking lot to catch an Uber back to the Loft. The blonde carries his vanilla shake for him, so he doesn’t spill it.

“Thank you for coming with me today,” Felicity says, raising Oliver’s shake to his lips for him so he can take a sip. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Oliver replies easily. “Anything for you.”

“... I promise I won’t ask you to come maternity clothes shopping again.”

All the tension leaks out of his shoulders. “Thank you. I’m just… not good at this sort of thing.”

“I thought you were amazing today,” Felicity laughs. “But yeah, I did think you were getting agitated when I started looking at nursing bras. I’ll ask Thea to come back to that store with me for that.”

“Excellent plan.”


	3. Oliver's First Night in the Loft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set a couple of days after chapter 1 of little wonders, before chapter 2
> 
> this oneshot is in oliver's POV for a change!

Oliver heaves the cardboard box containing half of his life higher into his arms so he can get a better grip on it, shifting nervously from foot to foot outside the front door of the Loft. It’s three days after Felicity changed his entire world by telling him that she’s pregnant, and last night she told him to come around to her place whenever to start moving in. He’s come around 11am, despite her inviting him other earlier. The archer reckons that she expects it to take the whole day; the reality of it is that Oliver’s whole life fits into three reasonably sized cardboard boxes. He barely needs anything, and only keeps the essentials on him. The rest of his possessions - most of them he accumulated during his and Felicity’s summer world trip - are in a storage locker right now.

He still can’t really believe that he and Felicity are expecting a child. It’s insane for him to think that they broke off their relationship and engagement half a year ago, and then had a crazy drunken one-night stand that resulted in her becoming pregnant. He was astonished and surprised beyond belief when she turned up in his City Hall office with those pregnancy tests. Now, however, he could not be happier, or more hopeful. Although he is terrified of being an awful father to his and Felicity’s baby - especially after the disaster that happened with William - he is excited.

Moving back into the Loft, though… Oliver knows this is going to be tough. But he also knows that he needs to do this, to properly support Felicity with the baby. He needs to be there to protect her and help her out, whenever and however she needs him. Oliver still loves her, more than anything else in the universe, and he will continue to respect the fact that she doesn’t wish to be involved romantically with him; he will remain by her side in a platonic manner for as long as she’ll have him.

Ringing the doorbell, Oliver takes a step back, wincing as his box slips in his arms. He has his other two boxes by his feet, with two garment bags on top with his suits for mayoral work lying on top. He already knows Felicity is going to comment on his lack of belongings, and will probably give him a sad, sympathetic look, because she knows that a majority of his things are mementos from their relationship. Oliver can’t imagine bringing them back here, though. 

When Felicity opens the door, beaming happily at him, Oliver can’t help but immediately drop his gaze down to her stomach. There’s no bump yet, as she’s too early along. She must be around seven weeks now. The app on the archer’s cell phone says that means their baby is about the size of a blueberry. He wonders briefly if she’s been getting common first trimester symptoms like morning sickness and food aversions yet. She hasn’t mentioned anything, but then again, Felicity hates being ill and acknowledging it.

“Hey, Oliver!” she greets him cheerily.

“Hey,” he smiles. “Sorry if I interrupted you or anything.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I was just re-watching some of my favorite _Parks and Rec_ episodes.” She peers out of the doorway. “Do you want me to bring this stuff inside while you go and get the rest?”

“This is everything,” the archer shrugs. “And you shouldn’t be doing any heavy-lifting in your condition.”

Felicity looks astonished. “Three boxes and two garment bags? That’s it?”

“I don’t need much,” he responds, getting on the defensive. He side-steps past her, box in his arms, and then without needing any instructions - he did use to live here, after all - heads straight to the guest bedroom, to drop the box down on the bed. Felicity tags along behind him, her hand drifting absentmindedly down to her belly, to stroke over the area where their baby is growing within. “Have you started preparing lunch yet?”

“Lunch?” Felicity repeats. “I was just gonna order in Big Belly.”

Oliver tries not to let that statement hurt him, but ends up grimacing anyway, as he returns to the front door to grab the rest of his things. He allows the blonde to carry his garment bags when she insists on helping. “Let me finish unpacking and then I’ll make you something.”

“What? No, you just got here,” she protests.

“But I’m not a guest,” he points out. “I’m living here too now. And that means that I’m allowed to cook for you, and I _want_ to cook for you.” Seeing the apprehension on her face, Oliver rolls his eyes fondly. “Felicity, how many times have you had Big Belly Burger take-out in the last week?”

“Only, like, twice,” she says sulkily.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely making you a salad,” Oliver decides. But then he pauses, and asks delicately, “Unless there’s a reason why you shouldn’t be eating salad? You don’t have a food aversion to vegetables at the moment, do you?”

“That’s a thing?” Felicity blinks.

“So you don’t. Excellent. You’ll be able to eat a salad then.” After the last box has been dumped on top of his bed, he motions to the wardrobe in the corner. “Just hang the garment bags up in there for now, I’ll sort out the suits later.”

Nodding, the blonde hangs them up and then starts helping him go through the three boxes, lifting out the neatly folded piles of clothes and then beginning to sort through those for him. Oliver is thrown for a moment, but recovers hastily and gets all of his toiletries out so he can put them in the bathroom. When they used to live together as a couple, they would often do laundry together; Felicity knows exactly how he likes his clothes organized in his wardrobe and chest of drawers. He’s just a little surprised she’s jumped back into it.

“You don’t have to help,” he says, hiding his spare bow and quiver under the bed, which currently doesn’t have any sheets on. “You should be taking it easy.”

“I’m seven weeks pregnant, Oliver, not seven months,” she sighs.

“Yes, but the first trimester can be really tiring,” he argues. “Rest while you can.”

“I will, after you’re fully unpacked, over lunch.” Felicity shakes out one of his jackets, maneuvering it onto a hanger. “Hey, isn’t this what you wore when you cut off Malcolm Merlyn’s hand?”

Raising his head so he can look at it, he nods. “I think it is.”

“And it’s going in the trash,” Felicity quickly drops it into the nearest trash can.

“What? Why?”

“Did you not notice the blood splatter stains on the cuffs?”

Oliver stares and then agrees, “Okay, good call.”

They continue unpacking his boxes together. Oliver arranges his framed photos on the bedside table and chest of drawers as Felicity goes to fetch some sheets and pillows. While the archer makes the bed, glad that Felicity chose to bring up some dark blue sheets rather than any of the ones they used to use on their shared bed, the blonde examines the photos. Oliver is rather glad that he didn’t frame any of their old relationship pictures for his bedroom; instead, there are pictures of the two of them with John, Oliver with Moira, Thea and Walter, and a whole team photo they took at John’s wedding, including Lyla, Roy, and Laurel.

“I miss Roy,” Felicity says sadly.

“Yeah, me too.”

“He would be so happy about the baby,” Felicity muses. “Maybe once we’ve told the others, we can arrange a secure call with him to tell him as well?”

“That’s a good idea.”

Felicity strokes her fingertips over the photo of the Queen family. “Do you think your mom would be happy? That I’m having your child? She didn’t exactly like me… I don’t think she would have approved.”

“My mother would have approved as soon as she saw how happy you made me,” Oliver says. “And I’m not sure how she would react to the baby. I would like to say she would be delighted to have a grandchild, but after everything she did to Samantha, threatening her and paying her off to tell me that she had a miscarriage, to purposely hide William’s existence from me… I don’t know.” He pauses and then adds in a more upbeat voice, “Walter will be ecstatic. We should tell him as well. He’ll want to come over from England to visit us all when the baby is born, and he’ll probably bring an extravagant gift along with him.”

Felicity’s lips tick up into a smile and she chuckles under her breath. “Did I tell you about how Walter sent me a candied fruit basket for Christmas back in 2012, before he got kidnapped by Malcolm Merlyn?”

“He did?”

“Yeah. The card he sent along with it thanked me for helping him with his confidential research - meaning the stuff to do with Tempest - and also for helping you out with your difficulties adjusting to modern tech.”

“I never told him I visited you beyond that first time he gave me your name to help me with Floyd Lawton’s laptop,” Oliver says, surprised.

“The IT department at QC gossiped a lot.” Felicity blushes. “He probably heard the rumors. I thought the candied fruit basket was a bit much though. That thing could have fed an army. The crystallized pineapple in it was incredible. Wait, by extravagant, do you mean - Walter’s not going to send us a baby chariot made out of silver or anything, right?”

“No,” Oliver reassures her, while thinking, _I’m not sure but I hope not._ He glances around the bedroom. “Okay, I think I’m all done here.”

“Awesome. Lunchtime, then. I’m starving.”

Oliver watches amusedly as Felicity saunters out of the bedroom towards the kitchen with purpose in her stride. Following along behind her, he heads towards the fridge to check what she has in it, as she hops up to sit at the breakfast bar. Much to his disappointment - but not to his surprise - Felicity barely has any fresh food, with the only vegetable being a half moldy cucumber, and the only fruit being a lone, rather depressed apple with bruises marking its red skin. She has an inch worth of milk left that’s about to go off, butter that he’s convinced has been there since he moved out of the Loft, and some mildly questionable eggs. There are more take-out containers than anything else. The freezer is as equally sparse, except for the three pints of icecream.

“Right, I’m going out for groceries.” He closes the fridge. “Want to come with?”

Felicity pouts. It’s adorable. Oliver can’t help but crack a grin. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, we do, because now I’m back living with you, you will not be surviving off take-out. You are going to eat a healthy, balanced diet.” Sliding into a chair next to her, Oliver pulls a notebook and pen from the bowl on the side towards him. “We’re going to write a list and plan our meals for the rest of the week.” He spots the wistful glance she casts to the couch and the TV, where _Parks and Rec_ has been paused. “Or you could get back to your TV show while I do this, since you’ll basically eat anything I put in front of you and aren’t going to be involved in the cooking at all.”

“Thank you,” she groans in delight. She vaults onto the couch in a motion that makes Oliver internally scream, wondering whether it’s okay for her to do that when pregnant. “I promise, I will not complain at all about anything you feed me since you’re sparing me.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be out, so if you get too hungry and can’t wait any longer, eat the chow mein in the container on the top shelf. It looks the most decent out of everything in there, but make sure you heat it up properly in the microwave.”

“I will!”

Because of the lack of food Felicity has in the fridge and the freezer, Oliver ends up spending over $100 at Walmart and another $100 at Costco, where he goes to get bulk supplies of certain things he knows they’ll be needing a lot of. There isn’t an Uber big enough for all of the bags once he’s done, so he ends up calling his City Hall head of security instead, who quickly sends an SUV out with one of Oliver’s normal bodyguards to help. He doesn’t comment on the amount of groceries, much to Oliver’s relief and embarrassment. He does get a great sense of accomplishment, however, as the two of them lug the bags into the elevator and up to the Loft; he’s finally going to be taking care of Felicity again in a way he knows he truly excels in.

Felicity doesn’t even look over at him as he enters, alone since he dismisses the bodyguard and says he has it handled. She does, to her credit, get up to help him unpack the groceries, although Oliver suspects that might be just so she can snoop around and see what he’s bought. It’s something she used to do back in Ivy Town, since she couldn’t stand going to the farmer’s market with him, but was always intrigued to see if he’d returned with some of her favorite fresh fudge. It brings an affectionate smile to his face.

“Did you get anything that’s not green and leafy?” she asks in disgust, after rifling through two bags.

“Yes, I did.” He throws her a red bell pepper, that she catches. “I bought plenty of vegetables that aren’t green and leafy.”

“You’re trying to turn me into a rabbit again, like you did back in Ivy Town,” she accuses.

“I got you your favorite chips, cookies, and chocolate,” he admits, lifting up the bag filled with goodies to show her. Felicity’s face lights up and she makes grabby hands, but he raises it out of the way. “This has to last the rest of the week, okay? I know you’re pregnant so it would be cruel for me to cut you off completely from sugar, but we’ll still aiming for a balanced diet, here. Alright?”

“Fine,” she agrees. “But if you try and make me eat zucchini, I’m revolting.”

“Fair enough.” Oliver pours out another bag onto the tabletop, revealing half a dozen different prenatal vitamin pill bottles, as well as some special folic acid powder additive. “I know you haven’t picked one out to try yet, so I thought I’d offer some options.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Felicity laughs.

“No, I’m not. Folic acid helps prevent neurological birth defects like spina bifida and anencephaly, and you’re meant to take it before getting pregnant and during the first trimester. You obviously weren’t expecting to get pregnant, and although most flours these days are enriched with folic acid, you wouldn’t have been getting enough. You need to make sure you’re taking the recommended amount now.”

Felicity looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. Oliver twitches self-consciously, returning to filling the fridge up and getting some reusable containers and plastic bags out so he can begin portioning the meat he’s bought, to get it into the freezer. So what, if he’s downloaded every pregnancy app available onto his cell phone? So what, if he’s bought a couple of eBooks about baby development and early parenting because he’s slightly freaking out already at how he’s going to manage a baby? It’s not a big deal.

“You’re truly something else, Oliver Queen,” the blonde murmurs.

“Your health and the baby’s health are important to me,” he says honestly.

They eat lunch together, which is a quick pastrami salad Oliver throws together within ten minutes. He was sure to check that everything he bought, especially the meat, was all okay for pregnant women, and had a list open on his cell phone when stalking the aisles to make sure he didn’t accidentally buy something that Felicity isn’t allowed to have. Once they’re both done, Oliver washes up the plates. When he catches Felicity frowning down at herself, as if perplexed that she might still be hungry after that, he tosses her a packet of chocolate chip cookies, which she gleefully breaks into.

Oliver tidies up the living room area as she polishes off her first cookie in record time, his stomach twisting as he spots certain things around the room that remind him of their time living here together. It’s painful in a way that he didn’t expect. Half a year ago, they started to build a life together in this Loft. Now, they’re building a new life, together but _not_ together. They’re doing this for the sake of their unborn child. Oliver knows that he wouldn’t have moved back in here with Felicity otherwise.

He works on some mayoral things during the afternoon, scanning over paperwork and signing forms. There’s a conference call he ends up on for an hour about the city education budget, which is pretty boring. Felicity, meanwhile, works on a couple of her coding side-projects with her TV playing on low volume in the background. Every so often, Oliver will sneak a glance over at her and find her resting her palm over her stomach in instinctive protectiveness; it instantly makes him smile.

Oliver makes spinach and Parmesan tortellini for dinner, making the pasta from scratch as he always does. It doesn’t take long as he’s practiced so many times now that shaping and filling the dough comes naturally to him. Felicity grumbles about how she can’t enjoy a glass of wine with her meal since she’s pregnant, so Oliver stirs up a lime and mint cordial for her that tastes just like a mojito, without any alcohol in it. They chat about menial things as they eat - chores they’ll have to do around the Loft, work the two of them have coming up, upgrades in the bunker that Felicity has started to implement. Once their plates are cleared, Oliver waves for Felicity to stay sitting as he whips up a chocolate mousse for dessert, topping it off with chocolate shavings.

“I’ve really missed having you around,” Felicity mumbles, through a mouthful of cream.

“You only missed me for my cooking?” he teases.

“I missed you for a lot of things,” she replies. “But there’s one thing I didn’t miss at all, and we’re absolutely training this habit out of you as soon as possible - please don’t leave your wet towels on the bathroom floor.”

“We’re not sharing a bathroom,” Oliver points out. She has her own en-suite, while he’s using the guest bathroom with the temperamental shower. “Why do you care?”

“Because they make the whole place smell like damp,” she wrinkles her nose. “Just hang them up to dry like a normal human being, please.”

“Since when have I ever been normal, Felicity?” The archer snickers when she glares half-heartedly at him. “Alright, I promise I’ll hang my wet towels up.”

Felicity narrows her eyes at him, as if trying to work out whether or not he’s being sincere, but eventually nods. “We’ll have to buy some of that non-biological laundry powder as well that you use,” she says. “When you moved out, I started using a biological detergent that I just know is going to irritate your skin.”

“You can still use that, if you prefer it. We can do separate laundry loads.”

“No, that will cause the water costs to skyrocket, and they’re already a fortune because of how long my showers are,” Felicity shakes her head. “It’s more efficient if we share laundry.”

“You have to let me do it, though.”

Felicity cocks her head. “Why?”

“Do you not remember the Red Sock Incident of 2015?” he smirks.

“Oh my god, Oliver, that was one time! And obviously, it was an accident. It would be impossible for anybody to have spotted that single red sock when it was buried in all those white shirts and sheets! And I swear, no normal red sock should have bled that much dye!”

Oliver laughs at her outraged expression, and Felicity swiftly relaxes when she realizes that he’s not angry with her. It did lead to a rather amusing meeting the next day with his mayoral campaign manager, when he turned up in a salmon pink shirt due to the Red Sock Incident. “That’s why you triple check whenever you’re washing whites.”

The rest of the evening is calm. The two of them agree that the Green Arrow and Overwatch deserve a night-off, considering that they’ve been doing double patrols recently, and settle down for a quiet night. Felicity puts on _The Princess Bride_ , arguably one of her favorite movies of all time, and munches on popcorn as she watches. Oliver has work left to do, so sits next to her on the couch with his laptop open, typing emails throughout the movie. He’s struck with a strange, out-of-place feeling when he realizes that there’s a good two feet of distance between them; when they were together, they never used to leave room for Jesus when cuddling on this couch. He wants nothing more than to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her to his side, but that would be massively overstepping their platonic boundaries.

The credits roll, and Felicity switches the TV off, standing and stretching. She winces when she hears her spine clicking. “I’m exhausted. I’m gonna head in. Make sure you close the window before you go to bed?”

“Sure,” he agrees.

Without even realizing what he’s doing, Oliver jumps into autopilot and half follows Felicity up to her bedroom - what used to be their old shared bedroom. He halts when he reaches the stairs, recognition rippling through him, followed by shame. When they were a couple, the two of them always used to go to bed together, so they could spoon until they both got to sleep. He was so caught up in the domesticity of it all that he totally forgot that they have separate bedrooms now, and he’ll most definitely be sleeping alone. His heart aching, he tells her goodnight and walks back to the couch to wallow in guilt and mortification that he so very nearly slipped up and pushed too far.

When he finally retires to bed, just before midnight, the archer shivers at the cold sheets, feeling too uncomfortable to strip down to his boxers like he usually does. The mattress is springy since it’s been hardly used, and he lies stiffly on his back, missing his and Felicity’s old mattress. At least he has one of his old pillows; Felicity must have put it in here when he moved out. The lingering scent of Felicity’s perfume is haunting, and Oliver finds himself staring up at the ceiling restlessly for most of the night.

He gets maybe three hours of sleep in before waking up at 6am. Knowing it’ll be impossible for him to get back to sleep, Oliver vaults out of bed and takes a quick shower, sighing unhappily at the ghastly water pressure, before dressing. He has meetings at City Hall today starting at 9am, so he wears a navy blue suit, draping his tie around his neck.

It’s unlikely that Felicity will wake up before he has to leave, so he makes her a yogurt and fruit parfait for breakfast, writing a note that it’s in the fridge. He forces himself to eat a banana despite his lack of appetite, relieved that at least one thing hasn’t changed around the Loft - the coffee is amazing. Felicity has always had great taste in coffee beans; her favorite kind produces notes of caramel and chocolate when brewed. Oliver can imagine that she’s devastated she has to drink decaf now, since she’s only allowed so much coffee a day with the pregnancy.

He wonders for a brief moment if he should stick his head around her bedroom door and tell her that he’s going to work. Before they broke up, they had a pact that they would always alert the other to their leaving, normally with a morning kiss to sweeten the irritating wake-up call. In the end, Oliver decides to write her another note, sliding it under her closed bedroom door.

He walks out the Loft feeling like that was the shittiest night ever he’s spent in the apartment, including those rough nights when Felicity first came home after the hospital paralyzed, because at least then he could touch and comfort her. Now, the archer has to walk on eggshells to avoid accidentally crossing that fine line between platonic and romantic. He hates it.

Oliver is pretty sure that moving back into the Loft is going to be torturous. But the pain is worth it, if it means he gets to protect and take care of Felicity and his baby.


	4. The Twins Kicking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after November (Ch3), before December (Ch4)

“Come on. Come on. You can do it. I believe in you. You two have got this. Totally got this. You can do it.”

“What are you doing?”

Felicity glances up from where she’s settled on the couch, lying supine with a blanket thrown over her. She’s pushed the blanket down to beneath the swell of her stomach, and pulled up the pajama tank top she’s wearing to expose her belly to the air. It’s very obvious she’s nineteen weeks pregnant now because of how large she is. Having twins has caused her to turn into a whale. Because it’s Sunday and the archer doesn’t have work, Oliver is busy trying out some new recipes for the holiday party they’ll be hosting soon. He wants to bring something new to the dining table to accompany the trussed up Christmas goose, Hanukkah goodies and various other festive staples. At the moment, he’s attempting to perfect his roast potatoes. He’s stopped as he’s dusting them with flour, though, to watch her poke and prod at her stomach.

Felicity huffs at his curious expression, and looks back down at her baby bump, forehead creasing with concern and annoyance. “I was reading this article earlier about fetal quickening and I’m worried because the twins haven’t shown real signs of it yet.”

That immediately catches Oliver’s full attention. He rinses his hands so they’re free of flour, and comes to join her on the couch. The blonde shuffles sideways so that he can perch next to her and rest his palms on the taut skin of her belly. “What’s ‘quickening’?”

“It’s the old-timey word for the first movements of a baby,” Felicity sighs. “Normally fetal quickening happens with your first baby when you’re between sixteen and twenty-five weeks. I haven’t felt anything like it yet.” She strokes her hand over her bump. “I was hoping to give the potatoes some encouragement.”

“But you have felt them moving around,” Oliver says, confused. “You said you feel them rolling about all the time.”

“I suppose,” Felicity allows. She has been experiencing swooping sensations that she knows must be the twins moving in her womb. “I’ve been getting weird feelings in my abdomen these last two weeks, but I think that was just gas. Quickening is often described as little flutters. And they definitely haven’t kicked yet. Not properly. The website said that with twins, the shifting isn’t true quickening because it could be the combination of the increased pressure in my uterus and my internal muscles moving them around.”

“Oh.” Oliver stares down at her stomach with a frown. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Talking to them doesn’t seem to be working.” Felicity pokes at her stomach again. “Prodding isn’t working either.”

“Hmm.” The archer pulls out his cell phone thoughtfully, tapping for ten seconds. “Okay, this site suggests doing jumping jacks.”

Quirking an eyebrow in disbelief, Felicity just waves down at herself, where’s she incredibly comfy and is not going to be getting up for the foreseeable future - or at least until they need to head to the bunker for the evening.

Oliver’s lips tick up into a smile. “Okay, no jumping jacks, then. You’re already lying down and don’t feel anything…” He sets his head against the bump, his ear pressed to her skin. It makes Felicity jump, and instinctively grab at his shirt. Embarrassed when she catches herself, she quickly releases her grasp, swallowing as her eyes flicker up to the ceiling. “I don’t know if the rumbling I can hear is because you’re hungry, or because the twins are active.”

“Probably because I’m hungry,” Felicity says sheepishly. “I’m always hungry.”

“Hey, the site suggests eating a snack,” Oliver lights up.

He jumps up to go and grab a cereal bar from his stash in the kitchen cupboard. He opens it before passing it to Felicity. She wants to complain about him forcing healthy foods on her, but this bar at least has chocolate chips in it. Once Felicity has eaten it, they wait impatiently together to see if the twins make any movements. After about ten minutes, Felicity groans and drops her head back, rubbing her hands over her face.

Dropping to his knees, Oliver very gently massages her baby bump. Leaning in so his lips are almost brushing her skin, the archer says optimistically, “C’mon, you two, Mommy really wants to feel you move and you’re letting her down here.”

By some absolute miracle - Felicity feels a kick. She gasps in shock, covering her mouth. Tears wet her eyes before she can comprehend what’s happening; one of their babies just lashed out with their tiny hand or tiny foot against the side of her womb, hard enough so that she could feel it. Oliver instantly looks up at her, his eyes wide with worry, but then when he realizes what happened, eagerly cups the baby bump, trying to feel it himself.

“I can’t feel anything,” he says in disappointment, after a minute.

“They stopped.” Felicity massages the top of the bump, hoping that it might cause one of the twins to kick again. After all, it was Oliver massaging her stomach before that encouraged the first kick. There’s nothing. She tries to think about what she might be doing differently, and then it hits her. “Oh my god. Oliver, start talking to them again.”

“What?”

“Just do it!”

Oliver bows his head. “Okay, potatoes, you’ve gotta kick again, okay? Mommy felt that first one but you’ve got to give us another one, please, so we know it wasn’t a fluke. We’re gonna sit here and wait until -”

“They kicked again!” Felicity interrupts him, elated. This time, it wasn’t just a singular kick - it was three in a row. It feels strange; not dissimilar to gas or cramps, but also distinctly different, because it feels just like the website said it would - flutters, accompanied by stronger shifts and movements. “Oliver, they’re kicking because they can hear your voice!”

Oliver peers up at her in awe. “Really?”

“Keep talking!”

“You two finally starting to use those legs and arms of yours, huh? You’re making Mommy so happy right now. And I don’t know if you’re really moving because you can hear me speaking to you, but that’s super exciting if you are.”

“They’re still kicking,” Felicity reports. She’s overjoyed that she can finally feel her and Oliver’s babies being lively inside of her.

Oliver sighs, rocking back with a sad look. “I can’t feel them.”

That dims her happy mood slightly. Oliver deserves to feel their children moving just as much as she does - he has to wait just as long as she does to meet them, after all, even if he’s not the one making an effort to grow the babies internally. “You’ll feel them soon,” she reassures, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “Once they’re a little bigger, they’ll be kicking up a storm and completely abusing my insides. They have your Queen parkour genes.”

“I apologize in advance for that,” Oliver chuckles.

“You’re not sorry.” She shoots him a fake disdainful glance. “You’re gonna enjoy my suffering.”

“If it allows me to feel the twins moving, then… yeah.”

She raises her leg, pleased that she can lift it high enough even with her baby bump to kick Oliver lightly off the edge of the couch. “Go and finish dealing with _your_ potatoes, while I enjoy mine finally starting to kick.”

The archer gives her a stern look, pointing at her stomach. ““Hey, those two are _ours_. Property of Felicity Smoak _and_ Oliver Queen.”

Felicity snorts. “That’s what we’re gonna have to label the child harnesses and leashes we’ll undoubtedly have to get for them when they begin crawling or walking. Because you just know they’ll try to run before anything else.”

Rolling his eyes amusedly, Oliver rises from his seat and flicks her gently on the forehead before heading back to the kitchen. It’s because of his back being turned to her that he doesn’t see how Felicity sticks her tongue out at him, laughing softly under her breath.


	5. IKEA Cribs and Mario Kart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after December (Ch5), before January (Ch6)

Felicity observes with amusement from her position at the Loft’s breakfast bar, sipping a glass of chocolate milk, as Oliver, Quentin, Rene and Rory struggle to carry two giant cardboard IKEA boxes containing the twins’ future cribs through the front door. Thea and Evelyn are supervising them, helping guide them over any steps or ledges, but the two girls look as if they’re holding back laughter themselves.

It’s December 27th. Oliver and Thea determined that morning that today is the best day to go shopping for furniture for the twins’ nursery, as the post-Christmas sales would have started. Felicity remained at home with Evelyn for company as they took advantage of the slashed prices to buy cribs, a chest of drawers and a changing table. Now, they just have to put all that furniture together.

John has allowed Oliver to borrow his toolset, but is away in Chicago visiting his mom with Lyla and JJ, so can’t help. The group has divided up the work - Oliver and Quentin will work on constructing the cribs, while Rene and Rory build the changing table and chest of drawers. Evelyn is happy to relay instructions to the other recruits, but Oliver and Quentin declined Thea’s help, so she’ll be hanging with Felicity.

“You two doing okay there?” she asks with a snort, when the archer and ex-police captain stumble up the stairs heading to the nursery.

“All good!” Quentin calls, his voice strained.

“Yeah, we’ve got it handled,” Oliver claims.

Thea rolls her eyes. “Oliver, you’re about to slip.”

“No, I’m not.”

He slips. Felicity jumps up in alarm, bracing her baby belly. She’s just over twenty-one weeks pregnant now, but she reckons she looks about thirty, because the twins are _chunky_ little potatoes. Luckily, the archer manages to catch himself before he ends up falling down the staircase, and he casts a sheepish glance back at her, mouthing ‘sorry’. Just because she’s so concerned Oliver will fall flat on his face, Felicity follows Rene and Rory up the stairs as they carry the second crib up, into the nursery.

The room that will be the twins’ future nursery is a good-sized one, and used to be the second spare bedroom. Oliver finished painting it on Christmas eve, the walls that used to be cream now a beautiful pastel mint green that the two of them had custom-blended. Due to the walls not being completely dry yet, the archer makes Felicity wait until he can open up a window before beckoning her inside. The three recruits leave the crib to go and collect the other boxes from Quentin’s car, and shoot Felicity exasperated glances as they side-step past her.

“That is… a lot of pieces,” she says, slightly alarmed, as she leans against the doorframe and watches Oliver cut the tape on the box with a pocketknife he whips out of… somewhere, and empties it out onto the floor. “How many are there?”

“Um…” Quentin checks the box. “Seventy-nine.”

Thea’s jaw drops. “Seventy-nine? I thought these IKEA cribs came, like - semi-assembled.”

“Why do you think these two were on offer for three-quarters of their original price?”

“Are you sure you two are going to be okay with this?” Felicity asks dubiously.

Oliver shrugs dismissively. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, the big guy and I will have these cribs built lickity-split,” Quentin assures her.

Felicity raises an eyebrow. “Sure,” she replies. If they can hear the doubt in her voice, they ignore it. Thea snickers under her breath and links her arm with the blonde’s, leading her away. Once they reach the top of the stairs, and Felicity is certain the boys won’t be able to overhear her, she comments quietly, “They’re totally going to suck at building the cribs.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Thea laughs.

They both have to cover their mouths to stifle their giggles when they hear Oliver say with an arrogant lilt, “We’re not gonna need the instructions.”

“Hey, while those two slowly lose their wills to live, do you wanna play Mario Kart? The Wii system is still set up downstairs, right?”

Thea left behind her Wii when she moved out of the Loft; although Felicity prefers to play on her PS4, she and Oliver kept the Wii because there are a couple of good games downloaded on it, including Mario Kart. It’s insane how competitive the two of them get when racing, especially on the rainbow road circuit.

Felicity pours her and Thea glasses of lemonade while the brunette gets the game set up, grabbing a bag of popcorn from her secret stash for them to share. It takes a while for Felicity to find a comfortable position to sit in because of her swollen stomach; her back aches terribly due to all the extra weight of the twins pulling on her spine. Thea helps by propping Felicity’s feet up on a pillow on the coffee table and doesn’t seem to care when the blonde slumps onto her. They alternate between picking circuits, keeping a tally of the number of races they’ve each won. They’re so absorbed that they hardly notice the recruits carrying the rest of the furniture inside. Occasionally they take breaks between races to fetch more lemonade, or swipe through the Amazon wishlist Thea has made for baby supplies. Productive as the two of them often are, they order two green zoo animal mobiles for the cribs, which should arrive tomorrow.

They’re on their ninth race - they’re tied for number of wins - when very violent Russian swearing echoes down the stairs. Exchanging knowing glances, the girls press pause on the race. It’s only been an hour or so, and it sounds like Oliver is ready to throw somebody through a window.

“We should probably go and check on them,” Felicity muses.

Thea rolls her eyes. “Probably. But are we going to?”

The recruits come crashing down the stairs, looking petrified. Evelyn swings on her jacket and runs out of the Loft like she’s got sharks on her heels, while Rory and Rene shout vague phrases about Felicity and Thea having to deal with ‘those maniacs’ instead of them, following in her wake. Sighing, Felicity heaves herself up onto her feet, wincing as her ankles twinge. Thea supports her as they make their way up to the nursery, where they can faintly hear Oliver and Quentin hissing at each other, arguing.

“Where did you put the instructions?”

“You said we didn’t need them!”

“So what did you do with them!?”

“I threw them in the trash!”

“YOU THREW THE INSTRUCTIONS IN THE TRASH?”

“Stop yelling at me, Oliver, so help me God! You may be the Green Arrow but I’m the one with the gun!”

Felicity pokes her head around the doorframe, finding Oliver and Quentin standing with their faces, red with anger, barely inches away from each other. She clears her throat loudly, sending them both a sweet smile. Immediately, the archer backs off, his face now flushed with embarrassment, rather than fury, and Quentin turns away, running his hands over his face with a groan of frustration.

The first crib is still in pieces on the floor. A couple of joints and legs have been assembled, but look as if they’ve been put together by a four-year-old, rather than two grown men. There are screws and bolts all over the floor. Tools are strewn around the place so the nursery looks more like a safety hazard, rather than a safe space for their twins to sleep in the future. The other pieces of furniture, which Rene, Rory, and Evelyn were entrusted with, have been built perfectly and are pushed into the corner to make more room for Oliver and Quentin to work. The recruits obviously used the instructions, since it only took them an hour to put together a chest of drawers and the changing table.

“Everything okay in here?” she asks innocently.

“Fine,” Oliver replies, his voice a growl.

“Okay. Just remember, the babies have sensitive ears, even in the womb.” She pats her stomach gently. “They can hear every swear you say. Even if it’s in another language.”

The archer bows his head in shame. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“I’m not the one you were swearing at,” she said pointedly.

If possible, Oliver blushes an even deeper red. Toeing the ground, he turns to Quentin and mutters, “Sorry for swearing at you in Russian.”

Barely a glance from Felicity prompts Quentin into apologizing, “Sorry I threatened you with my gun.”

“Simple but succinct apologies!” Thea joins Felicity in peering around the doorway. “Now shake hands.” The two girls watch in satisfaction as Oliver and Quentin do so, nodding respectfully at each other. “Great. You two are on break. We’ll find the building instructions for those crib models online for you so you don’t have to search through the trash for them. Once you’ve both suitably calmed down, you can get to work on the cribs again - using the instructions, and with minimal cursing and threatening.”

Grumbling under their breaths, the two men traipse out of the nursery, thudding down the staircase. Felicity caresses her baby bump as she ventures inside the nursery to examine the job the recruits did on the furniture. They’ll have to double-check the fixings, of course, but she reckons that Rory and Rene would have been extra careful to make them secure, given that they’re appropriately wary of angering her and Oliver.

Thea huffs, kneeling to look at the awful work Oliver and Quentin have done so far. “I’m gonna take all this apart while they’re not here. It’s clearly all wrong anyway.”

“It’s weird,” Felicity says thoughtfully. “Oliver’s the kind of guy who would want to be precise and accurate with this sort of thing. He’s all about the little details when he’s making his arrows. I wonder why he wanted to start building without the instructions in the first place.”

The brunette laughs. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Felicity frowns. “Not to me.”

“Oliver’s trying to impress you,” she explains. “He wants to show you that he’s good at dad things. DIY and building IKEA furniture are big dad things. Doing it without the instructions is just…”

“A man thing,” the blonde finishes, smirking.

Thea smiles. “Exactly.”

It takes Thea about ten minutes to undo all the incorrect work that the men have done so far, with Felicity passing her the tools. Since Felicity can’t exactly bend over because of her baby bump, it’s Oliver’s sister who has to clean up the huge mess on the floor, collecting all the screws and bolts up and sorting them into separate bags. Felicity kicks all of the wooden frame pieces into piles of matching ones using her bare foot.

Oliver is brewing a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, when they go to find them. Quentin is nursing a cup of tea; he must have been too impatient to wait for caffeine.

“Please tell me that’s decaf,” Felicity says hopefully.

“Is it,” he nods. Pouring her a cup, he slides it across the counter to her. “Two sugars.”

“Thanks.” It’s hot, sweet and bitter, just how she enjoys it.

“We’re about ready to get back to crib-building,” Quentin tells them.

Thea takes the coffee that Oliver offers, grinning. “Oh, good luck.”

Oliver and Quentin glance at each other. With a constipated expression on his face, Oliver grits out, “We could… use… your help.”

“Wow. That sounded physically painful for you to say.”

The archer half-glares at his little sister. “Are you going to help us or not?”

“Say please,” Thea teases.

“ _Please_ ,” Quentin emphasises.

Thea shoots Felicity a playful wink before leading the two men to the nursery, ready to oversee crib construction - and make sure that neither of them kills the other. Felicity waves as they depart, happily cupping her mug of coffee between her hands so that it warms her palms. The twins kick, winding her slightly, as if sensing them leaving; Oliver darts back quickly when she winces, just so he can feel the movements of his children. He kisses her on the forehead when Thea shouts for him, murmuring an apology.

“Hey.” She tugs on Oliver’s sleeve before he’s entirely out of reach. “Let me know when you finally finish the cribs, yeah?”

“I’ll call down for you, so you can see,” he promises.

“Great. So that’ll be… when? In three days time?”

He narrows his eyes and points at her. “I know that was a joke… but also that’s completely possible, because IKEA furniture is terrible and I hate it.”

“Don’t judge the furniture before it’s been put together.”

“It reflects badly on the company, _not_ the people trying to build it, if it’s impossible.”

“Use the instructions and listen to Thea, and you’ll be fine,” Felicity laughs.


	6. Chocolate Strawberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a balm to the burn of yesterday's little wonders chapter.... this one is shorter, but thursday's is going to be longer at 3k words
> 
> this scene is set after february (ch7) but before the 5x20 chapters (march ch8&9)

“Oliver.”

“Hmm?”

Oliver doesn’t look up from where he’s concentrating on loading his new tranquilizer arrowheads, very aware that one small slip, resulting in a small nick on his finger and a little bit of the sedative falling into it, could cause him to black out for three hours.

He’s been grounded in the bunker because he’s still physically recovering from Prometheus’ torture. He shudders at just the thought of that psychopath’s name. He can’t help but unhealthily attempt to dissociate from that experience, trying to ignore that it ever happened, so he doesn’t have another breakdown. He knows that the rest of the team - especially Felicity - are worried about him, which is why John has told him that he shouldn’t go out in the field until the arrow wound in his shoulder has healed enough to stop the twinge.

Oliver reckons he’s got a week left of rehab before that happens. So instead of beating up a training dummy or doing the salmon ladder until he passes out - last time he did that, Felicity yelled at him and ended up crying, so he never wants a repeat of that - he’s focusing on arrow-making instead. That being said, he does try and direct a tiny portion of his attention over to Felicity.

She’s _very_ pregnant now. She’s thirty-two weeks, but because she’s carrying twins, it looks like she could be full term. Oliver winces in sympathy when he spots the unhappy, uncomfortable look on her face. Felicity has been suffering from swollen feet, aching knees and calf cramps all week, as the weight of the two babies inside of her strains her legs. As a result of all this, she’s been quite miserable and irritable. Oliver can’t blame her. He reckons that if he were in her position, he would be whining twenty-four-seven. Felicity barely mentions anything about her pains unless it directly affects him, or presents a challenge for something she's doing.

It turns out, however, that it’s not her physical discomfort that’s bothering her.

“Hey.” She snaps her fingers in front of his face. “Look at me, please. Put the arrowheads and the sedative vial down. I need your full attention.”

Oliver does as she asks, turning his chair towards her. At this point in the pregnancy, he doesn’t say no to anything Felicity requests. She’s incubating his two spawn, after all. Listening to her and doing or getting whatever she wants is the least he can do to help. “You have it.”

“Okay. Good. Now.” Felicity reveals a plastic tupperware from behind her back, propping it on her large baby bump, which Oliver has seen her using as a personal food shelf recently. “Please tell me what the _fuck_ these are.”

Quirking an eyebrow, surprised by her language, Oliver peers over to see what’s in the tub that’s got her so riled up. “They’re… chocolate covered strawberries?”

“Yes, they are indeed.” Felicity crosses her arms over her chest, wincing when she ends up touching her boobs. She’s been complaining about how sensitive they’ve become. Oliver can’t even hug her anymore without her screeching in pain.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Is there something wrong with them?”

“Yes, there is.”

“What is it?”

Felicity slams the tupperware on the table in front of him, so she can cradle her baby bump. “Do you know what these are _not_?”

He looks at her helplessly.

“These are not the strawberry chocolates I asked for.”

Oh. That’s the problem? “Yeah, but these are healthier. You’ll still get the strawberry and chocolate flavors. In fact, probably better flavors, because the strawberries are organic and the chocolate is semi-sweet.”

Felicity stares at him with an impassive expression. Even her eyes are blank. Oliver stares back, feeling very much like he just stuck his head into a noose that the blonde holding the rope of. Felicity doesn’t really ‘do angry’ anymore with her pregnancy hormones raging through her. Instead, she gets frustrated and upset instead, using her loud voice but sounding tearful and tired.

Oliver hates it. It never fails to make him feel devastatingly guilty, even if it’s over something insignificant or that has nothing to do with him, like the grocery store having run out of her favorite kind of yogurt, or her email account asking her to change her password. One of the biggest hints that her mood is turning sour is when she hits him with these expressionless, stony looks.

“But they’re not my strawberry chocolates,” she says, her voice quietly deadly.

“No, they’re not,” he agrees.

“Mia and Tommy want my strawberry chocolates, not chocolate-covered strawberries.”

“Okay.”

“What did you do with them?”

“Er…”

“Did you throw them away?”

“... strawberries covered in dark chocolate are a healthier option. The strawberry sugar syrup in the center of a single one of those chocolates has 30% of your daily sugar allowance, Felicity. Nearly a third! Strawberries and organic chocolate have natural sugars that are so much better!”

“I don’t want a healthier option, Oliver.” To his horror, Felicity’s eyes begin to fill with tears, and she sniffles. “I know you’ve been wanting me to eat more vegetables and fruit for the vitamins and stuff, and you asked me to cut back on take-out and fast food and I _did_ , I did that for you. But sometimes I really need my comfort foods and I first tried those strawberry chocolates when Mom got them for me as a Hannukah gift this year, and I _miss_ my mom right now, Oliver!”

“... you could call her?” he suggests weakly.

That is definitely the wrong thing to say. Felicity releases a wet sob. “No, Oliver, I can’t! Because if my mom finds out I’m missing her, she’ll want to fly up from Vegas and smother me with attention and I’m already feeling smothered by you and John and Evelyn and the team, and I’m the size of a freakin’ _house_ right now so EVERYTHING is claustrophobic, and -”

Oliver rushes from his seat at the weapons counter to the kitchenette in the corner of the bunker, rummaging through the cupboards and drawers in a panic. He cannot have Felicity crying on him right now, because if she cries, then he’s going to start crying, and he needs to stay strong for her. His emotional state post-Prometheus holding him captive is fragile delicate enough as it is, and seeing Felicity so upset might distress him to the point of curling up in a ball in a dark room by himself for several hours.

He finally finds the box he’s looking for. “Here.” Thrusting it into Felicity’s hands, he opens it to show that her favorite strawberry chocolates are safe and sound.

Felicity just starts crying even louder.

Oliver just flails in alarm, not really knowing what to do. He tries to hug her to offer some comfort, but that just places pressure on the blonde’s sore boobs, adding pain to the slurry of emotions already coursing through her.

“Are you giving these to me because I’m crying or because you think I deserve them?” she whispers.

“Both?” Oliver replies confusedly. Is that the right answer?

Felicity finally stops crying, only to full-force glare at him, wiping her tears off her face. She wheels around, almost losing her balance because of how large her baby bump is. Oliver has to jump in and catch her by her waist to make sure she doesn’t stumble.

“Do you want me to put the chocolate-covered strawberries back in the fridge for you?” he asks warily.

“No. I’m eating the chocolates _and_ the strawberries.” Felicity pauses mid-step back towards the computer platform to shoot him a glower that could Oliver reckons could make Prometheus himself cringe. “You got a problem with that?”

“No,” he responds hastily.

“Smart answer.” She darts back to drop a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Oliver decides that trying to swap Felicity’s candy and chocolates for healthier alternatives in the future is a bad idea.


	7. Release from ARGUS Medical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is set after march part 1 and part 2 (chapters 8 and 9)
> 
> i think you guys deserve a lot of fluff considering what's coming up on monday for little wonders :)

On the day Oliver is set to be released from ARGUS medical, it takes his doctor an hour to discharge him just because the archer is being _difficult_.

Felicity watches on in exasperation from her seat in the corner of the room, enjoying the frappuccino Lyla bought her earlier, as Oliver is physically examined - and fights the nurse every step of the way. It’s a well-known fact that Oliver hates to be fussed over medically, unless Felicity is the one looking him over. He despises having his blood taken, and can’t stand having his limbs manipulated into stretches and uncomfortable positions to test his range of movement. He stares at Felicity with sad, frustrated puppy dog eyes the entire time, only looking away from her to shoot the nurse and doctor deadly glares.

Felicity sighs as Oliver starts arguing with the doctor that he knows how to properly clean a sutured wound. Leaning back into her chair’s cushions, she smoothes her hand gently over the top of her giant thirty-four weeks baby bump. The twins - _twin boys_ , not a boy a girl, they only found out a couple of days ago - are quiet today, only kicking occasionally; they had a pretty active night, keeping her awake into the early hours of the morning. Now Felicity and the twins are all tired. She smothers a yawn with her hand, sipping at her drink and using the straw to try and mix in the whipped cream. At this point, she just wants to take Oliver home, curl up on the couch with him and cuddle all evening.

The two of them are back together, but they haven’t properly been able to enjoy it, since Oliver has been on bed-rest. She can kiss him, of course - they’ve been kissing a lot - but she can’t wrap her arms around him in a hug and just… snuggle into his chest. The wound in his back made by the rebar has half-healed at this point, fully closed up with just the surface cut being held together with stitches. The ARGUS medics were very impressed by the speed at which Oliver healed; they didn’t mention to them that Rene snuck in some magical island herb tea for the archer the day after his admittance, which would have helped accelerate the process.

Because of that wound, however, Felicity hasn’t been able to embrace him within causing some form of pain or ache. Now they’re heading home, though, Oliver will be sleeping in his huge double bed, rather than this small single medical one. Felicity will be able to comfortably lie beside him. And then, once they’ve ‘taken it slow’, Oliver will join her in the queen-sized bed they used to share in the master bedroom, and they’ll have even more room for lazing about.

A sharp knock on the doorframe jolts Felicity from her musings. She struggles to twist around with her baby bump in the way, rapping back to indicate they can come in. John sticks his head around the door once he opens it, his gaze flickering over her, then over to Oliver, and then back. There’s a warm smile on his face, a delighted gleam to his eyes that Felicity suspects is because he’s overjoyed that she and Oliver are finally taking a shot at a relationship again.

“Your Uber has arrived,” John says jokingly, as he’s the person taxi-ing them back to the Loft. “All finished up here?”

“Yes,” Oliver replies in an irritated voice, at the same time the doctor taking his vitals answers, “No,” in a firm, equally annoyed tone.

John raises an eyebrow. “He’s being difficult, isn’t he?” he asks Felicity.

The blonde snorts. She’s beginning to think that word was coined especially for her boyfriend. “Very.” When she catches sight of Oliver’s brow creasing, his mouth opening to no doubt spit something else at his doctor, she gets his attention by calling, “Oliver, honey.” When his eyes flash over to her, she gives him a sweet, reassuring smile, that causes his shoulders to relax and his jaw to unclench. “The sooner you behave and let the doctor do the final checks she needs to before signing your discharge papers, the sooner we can get out of here and go home. And then you can spend all afternoon talking to the twins and feeling them move, okay?”

Oliver narrows his eyes, but gives in, slumping. “Fine,” he grumbles. He eyes the doctor warily. “How much longer is this going to take?”

“We’re waiting for your bloods to come back, and once I’ve seen that those are clear, you sign the papers,” the doctor responds, sounding relieved that the archer is going to cooperate. “We’ll give you a prescription for an antiobiotic and codeine for the week, and a pamphlet about showering using waterproof bandage coverings, but that’s it, then you’ll be free to go.”

Satisfied with this, Oliver is content to let the doctor do her work. John engages Felicity in conversation while they wait, trying to needle at her until she gives up the genders. Nobody knows except Evelyn from the rest of the team, and John very much wants to win the bet that they have going. He hasn’t won, despite the fact that they thought he was going to for a good couple of months, because the twins are both boys, not a boy and a girl. By the time Oliver’s bloods arrive and he’s cleared, the doctor appears happy to be rid of him. But the archer gets one last thing to complain about before he sees the back of this medical room.

“No. Absolutely not,” he protests, when the doctor brings a wheelchair up to the side of his bed.

“It’s protocol, Mr Queen,” the doctor says. She looks exhausted to be still dealing with him. “It’s only for the five minute trip down the corridor, down the elevator, and out into the back parking lot.”

“Exactly. A five-minute trip, which I will be perfectly fine _walking_ ,” Oliver emphasizes. He glances over at Felicity. “I would like my heavily pregnant girlfriend to be the one utilizing this wheelchair, please. Her feet have been swollen and she’s been suffering from dizzy spells.”

Felicity crosses her arms, resting them on top of her swollen stomach. She exchanges an exasperated look with the doctor. “Oliver, how about we _both_ use wheelchairs?” she suggests dryly.

“I don’t need one,” he dismisses.

She sighs. Why does he have to be so stubborn? “I’ll only use a wheelchair if you do.”

“But you _need_ a wheelchair!”

“So do you.” When Oliver scowls, Felicity says sternly, “The doctor thinks you need it. As you said, it’ll only be for five minutes until we get to John’s car. Nobody is going to care if they see you in it. The recruits aren’t here, so they can’t make fun of you.” He shoots a poisonous look at it. Felicity crosses the room to stand in front of him, tenderly stroking down Oliver’s arms and squeezing his hands. “C’mon. Please? For me?”

His vexed expression softens, and Oliver tips the blonde’s chin up so he can kiss her gently. “Okay, for you, I’ll use the wheelchair.”

“Thank god for Miss Smoak,” Felicity hears the doctor whisper to John behind them.

“Yeah, he’d be lost within her,” John chuckles fondly.

Oliver allows the doctor to wheel him out to the parking lot while Felicity is pushed by John in another wheelchair, but he does not look happy. Thankfully they don’t run into anybody, otherwise Felicity suspects that his mood would have dropped further. Once they’re safely in John’s car, the archer relaxes, resting his head on the blonde’s shoulder with a smile and reaching across to place his hand protectively on her baby bump. Felicity turns to press her lips lightly to his in a brief yet loving kiss, curling her fingers around his so both of their hands are covering their children.

The archer hums happily, eyes fluttering closed and breathing evening out; he’s not falling asleep, just resting. Felicity completely understands his fatigue - he hasn’t been able to sleep well while in ARGUS medical, the room they were staying in always a little too cold with dry air, and nurses and doctors waking him up and checking on him every couple of hours. She slept like a log most of the time, the twins tiring her to the point of passing out.

“Back to the Loft?” John questions, peering back at them with a grin.

“Yes. Home, please,” Felicity confirms. It’s quite nostalgic, really, having John drive them somewhere with the two of them in the back, just like he used to do for them when Oliver was CEO of QC and Felicity was his executive assistant. “Hmm… actually… there’s a new Baskin Robbins two blocks South of the Loft. Can you stop off there on the way? I’m really craving their Mississippi Mud icecream. I need dessert for tonight.”

Oliver cracks an eye open, emitting a quiet sound of shock. “Not mint chip?”

“Babies want chocolate.” She taps the top of her bump, laughing when the twins kick in response against her and Oliver’s entwined hands.

“Hmm, the twins get whatever they want,” the archer mutters under his breath, nuzzling into her arm.

By the time they reach Baskin Robbins, Oliver is passed out, his head lolling back and soft snores erupting from his mouth. He’s so exhausted that it will be impossible to rouse him until his brain has had enough rest. Because she doesn’t want to disturb the archer, Felicity sends John into the store to grab a pint of Mississippi Mud and a pint of vanilla for Oliver later on. He doesn’t often indulge in icecream, finding the flavors that they keep at home too sweet for his taste. Vanilla icecream is his favorite, and he only ever eats it when he’s sick, or out on a date night. Felicity reckons that he could use the pick-me-up resulting from the sugar rush to help recover from his injury.

When they arrive at the Loft, they have to wake Oliver in order to get him out of the car. Felicity can tell he’s not happy about it, but he remains quiet as John supports him up the stairs, leaning heavily on their friend as a clutch. The archer collapses down into the couch cushions with a sigh of relief after John gently sets him down, immediately pulling Felicity’s favorite tasseled pillow to his chest and hugging it. She eyes him strangely when she catches him sniffing it, but then realizes that because that is her favorite pillow, she snuggles with it a lot too, and it must be covered in her normal perfume. Oliver is using that scent to self-soothe himself. He can’t bend over to take his shoes off, much like how Felicity can’t at the moment either, so John helps him out, aiding him in shedding his jacket as well.

John gives Felicity a quick hug before he leaves, although it’s a little awkward because he can’t get his arms around her properly with her swollen stomach in the way. He taps the bump and whispers goodbye to the twins as well, calling himself Uncle John, which warms the blonde’s heart. Once he’s gone and the front door is secured, Felicity waddles over to the kitchen to put the icecream in the freezer and pour a glass of water, dumping Oliver’s medical prescription bag onto the counter so she can rifle through it to find his painkillers.

“Here you go,” she murmurs, passing him a codeine pill and the water.

Oliver keeps his eyes shut as he reaches out for them blindly. Felicity waits until he reluctantly opens his eyes so he can see what he’s doing before handing them off. Then, she takes a good ten seconds to sit down on the couch beside him, arching her back as much as she can and using her arms to support herself as she takes a seat, sinking into Oliver’s uninjured side. She kicks her shoes off and uses her toes to pull her socks off, pushing them away. Without prompting, the archer wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. If Felicity didn’t have her pregnancy belly, she would curl up half on his lap for cuddles. Instead, she has to be satisfied with resting her head on his chest, the baby bump spilling over her legs onto Oliver’s; he settles his hand over the side of it, smiling when he feels the twins kicking.

“Welcome home.” Felicity stretches her neck to kiss his jaw, nuzzling at his scratchy stubble.

“It’s so good to finally not have to worry about a doctor or nurse barging in on us,” Oliver mutters, bending his head to capture his lips with hers. Felicity would prefer for him to deepen the kiss, but he breaks it with a tired exhalation, shifting minutely so he can rest his head upon the crown of hers. His thumb strokes ellipses on the bump. “Can we just sit here a while? Not move? I just want to enjoy this for a moment.”

“We can sit here for as long as you want.” Her back twinges in protect, her ankles throbbing. “Well, within reason. _You_ can sit here for as long as you want. I need to get up and walk around and maybe take a hot bath at some point. Lucas and Tommy are wrecking the lower half of my body.”

Oliver emits a soft noise of protest, kissing her again. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“It’s not body image issues,” she reassures him. “I know I look super hot pregnant - you’ve told me that many, many times over the last few days.”

“You really are _very_ attractive,” he mutters, trailing his lips down the column of her throat.

“Being pregnant is just… _hard_. Everything aches, my legs hurt, my feet have blown up to the size of balloons, I feel constantly bloated -”

“Hey,” Oliver tugs on a loose lock of her hair. “Not long to go now. The finish line is in sight.”

“I love how you’re using a racing metaphor about me eventually giving birth to our children.”

“That sounded sarcastic.”

Felicity rolls her eyes in amusement. “Maybe you should use an archery one instead. The arrow’s shy of the target, but the next one will tear straight through - how does that one sound?”

“Felicity, are you trying to imply that the arrow is our babies, and the target is your vagina?”

“No, I was not, but thank you for that image,” she snickers.

Oliver slowly slides sideways to the end of the couch, being careful not to put too much pressure or strain on his healing wound. Patting his lap, he orders, “C’mon, legs up. I’m giving you a foot rub.”

“No, no, no, today is _your_ relaxing day. You just got out of ARGUS medical.”

“And I’d enjoy nothing more than taking care of my pregnant girlfriend,” he tells her, his tone honest and sincere. “Because I haven’t been able to look after her while calling her my girlfriend for over a year, and I like being a good boyfriend to her.”

Raising her foot to graze it down the side of the archer’s calf, Felicity informs him softly, “You’re already a _great_ boyfriend.” But, never one to decline a foot rub, she struggled to lift her legs up onto the cushions, groaning as the weight of the baby bump causes shooting pains down the backs of her thighs. Once she’s propped up with pillows behind her, and her feet are on Oliver’s lap, she wiggles her toes; she realizes with a wince that because of how swollen her feet have become, she can barely move them without triggering pins and needles. “Yikes, my blood circulation down there is pretty bad.”

“It’s adema, not poor circulation,” Oliver says knowledgeably. He gently takes a hold of her right foot, beginning to massage it lightly. Felicity drops her head back onto the pillows, sighing in pleasure. It feels amazing. She hasn’t been able to touch her own feet for months now. “Your body is retaining more fluid because you’re pregnant, and it’s accumulating at the lowest point in your body due to gravity - which happens to be your feet and ankles.”

Felicity quirks an eyebrow, impressed. “I think it’s possible you’ve read more books and articles about pregnancy than I have, at this point.”

“I had to find _something_ to do while you were asleep in ARGUS,” he replies simply. “I couldn’t just lie awake all night and watch you. That would have been creepy. And I couldn’t talk to Lucas and Tommy, because I might have woken you. Once Lyla gave me internet access on your tablet, I decided I might as well read some useful information so I can help you during these last couple of weeks.”

Her heart swells, and Felicity is overwhelmed by the feeling of being so lucky to have Oliver supporting and loving her. “I love you,” she says.

He rewards her with a winning smile, his eyes shining. “I love you too.” His eyes flit down to her stomach. “And I love you two, as well,” he says, addressing the twins. “Maybe you can ease up on the kicking? Mom’s kidneys can only withstand so much, you know.”

One of the boys kicks, but it’s much less forceful than before. “By some miracle, I think Tommy or Lucas just listened to you,” she sighs in relief.

“It was probably Lucas,” Oliver muses. “I think Tommy’s gonna be a troublemaker, just like his namesake.”

Felicity grins. “Did you know that Thomas is derived from the Hebrew word for ‘twin’?”

Oliver stares at her in bemusement. “You’re kidding.”

“Ironic, right?” she laughs.

“Don’t tell me Lucas is the same.”

“No, Lucas means ‘bringer of light’,” she tells him. Lying back and exhaling tiredly, she murmurs, “You should keep talking to them. It does get them riled up for a little while, but they calm down straight after.”

Oliver makes a thoughtful noise, his hands still working magic on her feet. “How about I tell them the story of how their parents first met?”

“You’re going to introduce our sons to the concept of bullet-ridden laptops before they’re even born?” Felicity chuckles.

“Hey, it’s important that they know where they came from.”

As the archer begins telling the twins the story of how he and Felicity first met, down to the little details like the color of Felicity’s nail polish, the red pen she was chewing on and the exact clothes they were wearing on the day, the blonde closes her eyes, basking in the moment. It doesn’t surprise her that Oliver remembers those things - his memory is excellent when it comes to the finer facets of stories involving the two of them. All of the tension in her body seems to be leaching out of her as Oliver rubs her feet digging his thumbs into the arches of her heels to relax the tight muscles there. Felicity thinks she can actually feel some of the swelling going down as the massage increases her circulation there, taking the excess fluid away. Oliver continues telling Tommy and Lucas about Felicity’s Shakespeare metaphors while moving his hands up to her calves, starting to massage those as well. It’s heavenly, and although it’s painful, it’s the good kind of pain.

“And that concludes the story of the first time your dad presented your mom with an outrageous, stupidly obvious lie but Mom helped him save the city anyway,” Oliver finishes. “And I say first time, because there were many other times after that as well.”

“Each lie was worse than the last one,” Felicity says in amusement. “The scavenger hunt with the fake box of Lafite Rothschild 1982 at the end lie was my personal favorite.” Groaning, she mutters under her breath, “God, I miss red wine.”

“You have a favorite lie I told you?” Oliver raises an eyebrow.

“Oh definitely. It would be the energy drink in a syringe, ‘I ran out of sports bottles’ lie, but the scavenger hunt one involved wine, so automatically wins.” Spotting the fatigued look on the archer’s face and the exhaustion in his darkening eyes, she murmurs, “How about we move this to your bed?”

Oliver shakes his head. “I’m fine, I’m not tired.” But his statement is ruined by the fact that upon completing it, his jaw cracks in a yawn. When Felicity shoots him a pointed look, he rolls his eyes. “Fine. I could use a nap.”

“And the doctor said I need to check your sutures,” she remembers.

The trip to Oliver’s bedroom is a slow and taxing one. Oliver can’t move too quickly and has to take rest breaks, not because he’s out of breath but because of how motion keeps twinging the wound in his back. He can’t use Felicity to lean on for balance and support either, because she’s perhaps even more unsteady on her feet because of all of the extra weight she’s carrying on her front in the form of her baby bump. Eventually, they get into his bedroom, and Oliver eases himself down onto the edge of his bed, looking about ready to lie down and pass out for the next twenty-four hours. Felicity draws the blinds and curtains so that the room is cast in shadows, switching on the lamp in the corner so softer light fills the space. She has to help him get his shirt off to avoid him twisting and injuring his half-healed wound. Once that’s done, Oliver rolls over onto his front; he obviously can’t be bothered to take his pants off, which Felicity agrees is a pain.

Felicity holds her breath when she peels back the covering over Oliver’s wound, examining it quickly and hoping that she won’t be struck by any nausea. The hole has been closed effectively and the stitches have held fast, despite all the moving around. It is weeping a little, so the blonde dabs the fluid away with some tissues from his bedside table.

“How’s it looking?” Oliver asks, his voice strained but also muffled by his pillow.

“Decent,” she determines. She tapes the covering back down, smoothing it carefully. “We’ll change the bandages in the morning.” Leaning over - and using her arm to make sure she doesn’t fall on top of him - she kisses him gently, running her fingers through his hair. “Try and get some rest, okay?”

“Aren’t you lying down with me?” He gives her the biggest, cutest begging puppy eyes.

Felicity can’t say no to that. She circles around to the other side of the bed and braces her swollen stomach, sinking down onto the mattress. She’s sweating by the time she’s rolled over onto her side, her legs successfully up on the bed with her. Oliver remains on his front but tries to shuffle closer so that the blonde can latch onto his arm, hugging it to her chest possessively. Her baby bump is pressed up against the archer’s hip. Felicity isn’t sure whether it’s the effect of the bed and the dark room, but she’s immediately drowsy, and judging by Oliver’s deeper breathing, he’s feeling sleepy too.

“Just… ten minutes…” Felicity mumbles, forehead resting against his shoulder. “Then I need to go so you can get some proper sleep.”

“Only sleep properly with you beside me,” Oliver whispers.

“No, no, we said we were… gonna take it slow…”

The archer coughs quietly. “This isn’t sleeping together at _night_ , though, this is just a nap. Doesn’t… doesn’t count. Sleep now, worry later.” His hand twitches by his side, brushing against her belly. “That means you two as well.”

“I bet you Tommy and Lucas are going to be the loudest, noisiest babies ever when they’re born,” Felicity sighs.

“I’m sure Lyla has got some tricks up her sleeves for calming down hyper infants,” Oliver says, his voice slightly slurred. “You should ask her.”

“Good idea.” Felicity tries to wiggle out of his grasp to go and collect her phone, but Oliver whines, protesting and suddenly doing his best imitation of a barnacle. “Oliver…”

“Nap time,” he insists. “Now, because when the twins are born, that means no more naps for us, and all the naps for them.”

“At least let me grab a blanket.”

“No, I’ll keep you warm,” he hums, nuzzling into the side of her face.

They’re both peacefully asleep two minutes later, wrapped up in each other’s arms.


	8. Birth of the Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you guys have been waiting for - Oliver's POV on Felicity's C-section and the twins' births!!!
> 
> Obviously this is set at the near the end of Ch 10.

Oliver is excited and nervous and scared and ecstatic all at the same time, and the maelstrom of overwhelming emotions building up inside him is making him feel sick. Standing at the back of the surgery room, he watches on anxiously as Dr Schwartz and her team start on Felicity’s C-section.

As soon as she fell unconscious due to the anesthesia barely a couple of minutes earlier, the medical team rushed forward and pushed him behind them so they could start working. The scrubs that the archer is wearing are uncomfortable and scratchy, but he couldn’t care less - he’s entirely focused on Felicity. Although he doesn’t have a good view of her because of all the doctors crowded around, he doesn’t mind; he isn’t here to watch her cesarean, after all, he’s here to make sure she’s protected while she’s blacked out, and to ensure that the twins are safe and healthy.

Time flies by. Oliver doesn’t understand half of what the doctors and nurses and other medical professionals in the room are saying or muttering around, but he understands that they’re making an incision in his girlfriend’s abdomen to get the babies out. That nauseous feeling swamps him once again when the coppery scent of blood fills the air, the metallic tang only beat in intensity by the harsh smell of antiseptic chemicals.

Before Oliver even realizes what’s happening, the piercing cries of a baby shatter the tense silence in the room. He takes an eager step forward, fighting his instincts to push aside one of the nurses to see his children. About ten seconds later, Dr Schwartz shifts her position. The archer gasps.

A tiny, wriggling infant covered in blood and gunk is resting in her hands. Despite all of that… he’s the most beautiful, wonderful baby Oliver has ever seen. He’s so incredibly small, and yes, he’s wailing his little lungs out, but he’s still _adorable_. Wetness on his cheeks alerts him to the fact that he’s begun crying without being aware of it.

“Note it down, Smoak-Queen twin A born April 15th, 11:58pm,” Dr Schwartz says to a colleague. She glanced back at Oliver, her eyes alight with joy. “Cord-cutting time, Mr Queen.”

Oliver stands there in shock for a moment, but then is nudged into action by one of the nurses. He stumbles forward, his heart thudding at twice its usual speed, and with shaking hands, cuts the infant’s clamped umbilical cord where the doctor indicates. It’s at this point that he realizes, with a flash of horror, that something is wrong. Twin A’s cord is tangled around Twin B’s, and it looks like this baby’s cord is wrapped around the other’s neck. Oliver opens his mouth to exclaim this in terror, but is shoved back, the medical team having quickly spotted what he has.

The first twin - _Tommy_ , that’s going to be Tommy, Oliver decides - is bustled away to be cleaned and checked over by George the maternity nurse. He hastily calls somebody else over; Oliver catches him mentioning something about low oxy-sats. He’s struck with fear. Oliver knows exactly how back low oxy-sats are, after his and Felicity’s experience trapped in the bunker, slowly being deprived of air. The archer is torn who to go to - the nurses and Tommy, who they are now talking about immediately taking down to NICU, or Dr Schwartz, who is now lifting twin B, _Lucas_ , out into the big wide world. He doesn’t get the chance to cut the cord of Lucas, because he’s whisked to the side by Dr Schwartz and another nurse.

“Oliver?” He turns around wide-eyed, his heart jack-hammering in his chest. Dr Schwartz is looking at him with a serious expression. It’s the first time she’s addressed him using his first name. “Listen, we need to take your boys down to NICU now. They got each other’s cords wrapped around their necks and they’re both having trouble breathing, so their oxy-sats are low. Dr Calahan and some of the other midwives are going to stay here with Felicity and make sure she’s sutured up and taken to her recovery room - George is coming with me and the twins to NICU. You need to decide if you’re coming with us, or staying here.”

He panics for a split second, not knowing what to do. On one hand, he desperately wants to stay with Felicity to watch over her, to reassure himself that she’s going to be okay - but on the other, he knows he would never forgive himself - and it’s likely Felicity would never forgive him either - if he allows the doctor to take their newborn boys to intensive care when their lives are at risk, without him.

“Coming with,” he says, his voice trembling.

He observes with bated breath as Tommy and Lucas are placed into individual mini medical bassinets, where their heartrates and oxy-sats can be monitored, and they’re wheeled from the room. He casts one last agitated look back at his unconscious girlfriend, but she’s already surrounded by other doctors and nurses, who he’s sure are going to take great care of her. John is waiting in the corridor looking pale and overcome with concern; he leaps to his feet as soon as the door opens and they emerge in their small group.

“What’s going on?” he asks urgently, his eyes falling onto the two medical bassinets.

“Twins need to go to NICU, I’m going with them,” Oliver reports quickly. “I need you to stay with Felicity. Text me if anything happens.”

His friend gives a short, firm nod, accepting the orders. “Got it.”

NICU is perhaps one of the most depressing rooms Oliver has ever set foot in. There are parents with grim and sad faces sitting next to bassinets with their ill babies inside. Oliver finds himself silently hoping that Tommy and Lucas don’t have to stay here long. He hangs in the corner in turmoil as Dr Schwartz converses with other NICU doctors who greet them and start hooking up the newborns to machines and god knows what else. He vaguely listens enough to hear them recite the twins birth times and weights, and commits those facts to memory immediately. The curtains are swiftly drawn closed to give them some privacy.

“Mr Queen?” Oliver blinks, squinting at the man who’s approached him. “I’m Dr London, I’ll be looking over your sons’ cases. Do you have their names so we can write them birth certificates and get them down on the charts? We’re currently calling them Smoak-Queen A and B, but it would be nice to actually get some names down.”

“Um, firstborn is Thomas Robert, second is Lucas John,” he rasps.

“Fantastic. Do you want to come over and see them?”

Oliver nods, a lump in his throat. He feels like he’s floating, his body disconnected from his brain, as he follows the doctor over to the corner, where a station has been set up for his two sons. The two bassinets have been pushed together. The archer tears up again seeing Tommy and Lucas. They’re both so tiny, and their small sizes are only emphasized by all of the monitors and tubes they’ve now been strapped into and had attached to them. Tommy is still wailing like a banshee, but Lucas is quiet, coiled up like he still thinks he’s inside his mother’s womb. Both of their oxy-sats are still low, but they have the smallest oxygen masks Oliver has ever seen on their faces. Both of the infants have a faint blue tinge to their pale skin, and Dr Schwartz is massaging both of their chests gently as she and another nurse dress the twins in soft blue cotton onesies, slipping hats that the archer doesn’t think he’d even be able to fit his fists into onto their fragile heads. It takes a moment for Oliver to realize that the hats are monogrammed with the twins’ names on the front in gold.

“I had them made specially,” Dr Schwartz explains gently. “Felicity joked over the phone with me last week that she didn’t think she’d be able to tell them apart, because all babies look the same.”

“Thank you,” Oliver chokes out.

Seeing his trepidation, she tells him, “You can touch them. They’re not going to break.”

“I wouldn’t want to disturb any of the -” he waves at all the tubes and leads.

“I know it’s scary, Mr Queen, to see your sons like this, but they’re going to be fine,” Dr London informs him, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s been twenty minutes and they’re already nearly stabilized. Once their oxy-sats are up to 90 and steady, you can hold them. Then it’s just some additional testing and they can go back to meet Mom.”

Twenty minutes? It only feels like five has passed since they left the surgery room. Dr Schwartz tells him that she’s going to go and check on Felicity, and will be back with news soon. The maternity nurse, George, has to go and attend to another patient. Drawing one of those awful plastic hospital chairs up, Oliver slides the bassinets apart slightly so he can slot himself between them. Then, with shaking hands, he reaches cautiously into the cots and strokes his fingers over Lucas and Tommy’s chests.

Like a switch has been slipped, Tommy instantly stops screaming. His little face remains scrunched up unhappily, but he seems a lot calmer now Oliver is touching him. Lucas starts fussing, in contrast to his brother, kicking his legs and whimpering.

“It’s okay, you two,” Oliver whispers, his voice choked up with emotion. “Daddy’s here.” He lifts his hand off Lucas to frantically wipe away his tears. “Goddammit, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry. But you two really scared me back there. Stupid Queen parkour genes making you so active and getting your cords twisted around other… I’m totally going to get the blame for this from Felicity. And you know what, I don’t care, as long as you’re both healthy and happy.”

He sits with Tommy and Lucas, his eyes like a hawk as he keeps a close eye on their monitors. At one point, Lucas catches hold of Oliver’s forefinger in his tiny hand and squeezes it, bringing the archer to tears once again. They’re both indescribably adorable. He can see himself and Felicity in them in all of their features. He can’t wait to see Felicity see and hold them for the first time. She’s going to be over the moon.

When the doctor next comes over to check on the twins, he tells Oliver that the bigger of the two infants, Lucas, has steady enough oxysat values that they can take him off oxygen. If he lasts ten minutes without those numbers dropping, Oliver will be able to take him out and hold him. Elated by this prospect, the archer waits nervously. He wiggles his finger that Lucas is gripping onto, heart soaring when the newborn tightens his tiny hand around it.

Ten minutes pass. Dr London says that Lucas looks good leaves the bare minimum of monitoring leads on him, but very carefully lifts the baby out of the bassinet. Oliver shifts around on his chair, vibrating with excitement as he follows the doctor’s instructions on how to position his arms into a cradle. He holds his breath as Lucas is slowly lowered into him, leaning back so that the infant curls up into his chest.

He’s frozen with wonder, staring down at the tiny human being he’s currently holding in absolute awe. Lucas is the heavier of the twins, but he still feels unbelievably light. His little hat has fallen askew on his head during the move, so Oliver takes the opportunity to check his head before pulling it back into place. Lucas has a beautiful small tuft of blond hair. He gets that from him, Oliver realizes. Felicity isn’t naturally blonde, and he remembers his mom saying that he had almost platinum hair when he was born. His skin is extremely soft when Oliver runs his fingertip lightly over the baby’s forehead and down his nose, between his stunning blue eyes.

“Hi, Lucas,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the back of the infant’s fragile head. The smile on Oliver’s face is almost painful, but he’s so overjoyed that he can’t stop grinning. Lucas has such a peaceful expression as he relaxes in his father’s arms, his little chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. “Lucas John Smoak-Queen… god, it’s been a pain waiting to meet you.” In the bassinet next to him, Tommy releases an outraged cry, as if annoyed he isn’t getting the same kind of attention as his brother. “Hey, calm down there, Tommy… Thomas Robert Smoak-Queen. You’ll get your turn soon.”

Once Tommy has passed the same ten-minute test that Lucas did, Oliver switches them. Tommy is much more lively than his brother, blinking up at Oliver with ocean blue eyes and trying to twist against his chest. It makes the archer laugh - he can already tell Tommy is going to be mischevious. He has hazel brown hair, close to Felicity’s natural color. For a second, Oliver has to sit back and close his eyes to will back his tears as he tries to imagine how his late best friend, and his son’s namesake, might have reacted to the news that Oliver has named his little boy after him - and what his father, who died to save him, might have thought of his memory being honored in this way.

Dr London circles back around to check on the twins about an hour after they first arrived in the NICU, and declares that both of the boys have stabilized oxysats. They’ll need to stay in the NICU for the next day or so to make sure their breathing is still okay, considering the circumstances of their birth, but he’s certain they’re going to be fine. Satisfied that Tommy and Lucas are both going to be okay, Oliver decides to head back to Felicity’s recovery room to make sure that she got through the rest of her C-section safely.

Although the NICU has excellent security and CCTV, he doesn’t want to leave the twins alone, so calls John so they can switch - he’ll look after the twins, Oliver will watch over Felicity.

Except John doesn’t pick up.

His phone goes straight to voicemail.

His brain tries to logic the situation, saying that John probably just turned his cell phone off, because that’s hospital policy. But his heart says something different; it causes a tidal wave of dread to wash over him. John wouldn’t have switched his phone off, because he agreed with Oliver that they would stay in contact through texting.

He hastily calls Evelyn. The recruit is with Lyla and the rest of the team at ARGUS, overseeing Sam, Oliver’s assistant who turned out to be Prometheus, being placed into custody. He still doesn’t want to leave the twins alone - if this is some plot of Prometheus’, a ploy to get Oliver away from the twins so they’re unprotected, he’s not playing into it. But his mind screams at him to get to Felicity, that she’s in danger. As soon as Evelyn confirms she’s entering the hospital and is in the elevator, heading up to NICU’s floor, Oliver legs it down the corridor, back towards where their private recovery room is. His head is spinning, his ears ringing. He skids around corners and almost crashes into a couple of nurses on the way there, and gets yelled at to stop running, but he doesn’t - he can’t. In fact, Oliver just runs faster.

Bursting into the recovery room, Oliver falls his knees with a bellow of anger and horror when he finds it empty.

He runs to the surgery room. It’s trashed - equipment has been smashed up, there’s broken glass all over the floor, and _bodies_. Maternity nurses and doctors and midwives who helped deliver the twins are dead, stabbed directly through their heads, and crimson pools blanket their motionless, crumpled forms. No signs of John or Felicity.

Backing out, Oliver tries to stop himself from hyperventilating, but fails. Everything around him trembles and the entire world is fuzzy, like he’s disconnecting from reality. Around the corner from the surgery room, he finds Dr Schwartz unconscious, lying against the wall - thankfully alive, but a large gash on her head from where she must have been knocked out. Felicity’s medical stretcher is overturned a couple of meters away from her - the light grey blanket tangled around the wheels is soaked with blood.

This is Prometheus’ doing, Oliver thinks dazedly, slumping against the wall helplessly. He can’t focus or strategize, overwhelmed with fury and fear and devastation. This has to be Prometheus. Sam must have set this all up, hired mercenaries or made alliances with a group other than HELIX that could put this into motion.

John is gone. Felicity is gone.

He doesn’t even know if they’re _alive_.

The rage that sweeps over him is red hot and spreads through his veins like acid. His hand trembling, with anger rather than fright, he reaches into his pocket to pull out of cell phone again. He kneels and checks Dr Schwartz’s pulse as he waits for the line to connect to the Star City police. His voice is strained as he reports what’s happened, stating only that there’s been an attack at the hospital, not kidnappings. He’ll deal with that himself.

His strides long and determined, Oliver heads back towards the NICU, urgently needing to know that the twins are safe. Upon arriving, he peers through the window to see that Dr London has pulled the curtains back to reveal Tommy and Lucas’ bassinets, and Evelyn is fawning over the two infants. They’re safe. Prometheus wasn’t aiming for the twins. He was aiming for John and Felicity specifically. Remaining outside the room, Oliver calls Lyla.

“Oliver? Hey! How’s it going? Has Felicity had the twins yet?” is the woman’s friendly greeting.

“Lyla, I need you to send the rest of the team here to the hospital, now,” he says, trying to rein in his fury so he doesn’t shout at her. As a result of that, the archer’s tone is flat, blank with emotion. “The twins were born safely and I’m with them now, but there was an attack, and John and Felicity have been taken. Once the others are here and can protect the babies, I’m coming to ARGUS. I need to interrogate Prometheus. This is his doing.”

Oliver hangs up without waiting for her response, his patience thin. He knows that he’s losing it. He can barely stop himself from punching through the nearest wall - he really wants to.

He gazes through the window, observing with a clenched jaw and tense shoulders as Evelyn wipes away bubbles of spit from Tommy’s mouth with a green lion themed comforter, and then pulls out another green tiger one to nestle it around Lucas, to keep him warm.

Prometheus is going to pay for ever daring to mess with his family, Oliver decides.

And he’s going to pay in _blood_.


	9. Pregnancy Sleeping Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is rated, in calli's words, 'a tame M' for sexual content
> 
> set between march part 2 and april part 1 (between ch 9 and 10)

Felicity can not, for the life of her, get to sleep.

She stares up at the ceiling of the bedroom, frustrated beyond all belief. She read about third-trimester pregnancy insomnia a couple of months ago, but never thought she would be affected by it. Throughout her entire pregnancy, she’s been exhausted, all too happy to clamber into bed at the end of a tiring day. Now, though she’s completely restless. She keeps getting hot flushes and the weight of her huge thirty-six weeks pregnancy belly is dragging on her spine like two giant sacks of flour - two, because she’s carrying twins. She’s aching all over, and despite feeling fatigued and about to drop unconscious… she can’t sleep.

Her mind is too exhausted to think about anything, so it’s not that she’s being kept awake by her brain whirring. Closing her eyes, listening to relaxing music, counting sheep, doing mental binomial expansion… nothing helps.

Huffing, she rolls over onto her other side with a wince, hating how cold her bed is. Well, she says _her bed_ … it’s not. She and Oliver are back together and back to sharing a bed. But because of this stupid insomnia, and Oliver needing uninterrupted sleep to heal from the bunker disaster, Felicity has been slipping out of their bedroom and into his old one, which now functions as their spare, to avoid accidentally waking him with all her twisting and turning during the night. Oliver noticed, of course.

The first night she slipped out, three days ago, he was harassing her the morning after, whining that he hates sleeping without her, that the bed feels empty without her after he’s now got used to sleeping with her beside him again. Oliver has the tendency to starfish under the covers and latch onto the blonde like a barnacle, spooning her and resting his hands protectively over her baby bump.

Felicity flinches, remembering how she snapped at him that she misses sleeping in the same bed as him just as much as he does with her, perhaps more. Her temper was short because of exhaustion. Oliver flashed her puppy dog eyes though, and Felicity instantly apologized.

The second night she tried to sneak out, the archer caught her and followed her. He reluctantly agreed to the sleeping apart, however, when Felicity elbowed him in the back, just above his wound, and he ended up howling in pain. She felt horrifically guilty and Oliver couldn’t stand it, so gave in, despite being extremely unhappy about. Felicity is unhappy too, but she knows it’s necessary.

Now Felicity just suffers every night and suffers in the morning, half-listening to the archer trying to convince her to join him back in their bed as she dazedly inhales breakfast. She honestly hates this insomnia that’s suddenly started plaguing her, because although she loathes to admit it, she really does enjoy snuggling with her boyfriend and sleeping in his arms. She loves falling asleep to Oliver whispering stories and secrets to Lucas and Tommy, and waking up to him kissing the swell of her belly as he wishes their sons good morning.

She misses sleeping. Most of all, though, she misses sleeping in bed with Oliver.

The bed she’s lying in smells of Oliver’s natural leather and pine musk. His pillows specifically smell of his cedarwood and beeswax cologne. It’s a small but soothing thing, having that surrounding her, enveloping her senses; Felicity’s eternally grateful that he didn’t think to wash his sheets and pillowcases. But she’s aware of his absence in other ways. Her feet are freezing, and she knows they’d be warm if she was with her boyfriend, because he radiates warmth like a space heater. Listening to Oliver’s deep, calm breathing usually calms her, so without that in the background breaking up the silence, Felicity can’t help but tense, jolting with every kick Lucas and Tommy land inside of her, attacking her kidneys and lowest ribs.

“Screw this,” she mutters.

It takes Felicity five minutes to climb out of bed because of her pregnancy belly getting in the way, and she cradles it as she waddles out into the kitchen to start making hot cocoa. Hopefully, the dark, rich chocolate will help. She’s furious at herself for not being able to sleep, but harbors no anger towards the twins. It’s not Lucas and Tommy’s faults, not really. Her body is incubating them, so, therefore, it’s her body that’s the problem here.

She doesn’t notice Oliver sneaking up behind her until he winds his arms around her waist, sliding his palms down the sides of her swollen stomach. He’s lucky that Felicity doesn’t jump in shock or throw her head back and break his nose. She’s surprised that he’s awake, since it’s 3am, but decides not to say anything since the archer rests his chin on her shoulder with a quiet, sad sigh, pressing his bare chest into her back. Felicity is wearing one of his shirts with the sleeves rolled up, but she can feel the heat rolling off his torso anyway.

“I can’t sleep,” Oliver whispers, kissing her neck.

“How come?” she replies quietly, stirring milk with a whisk on the stovetop.

The archer takes over for her, reaching around to grab the cocoa powder and sugar, measuring them out to add in. She expects him to say nightmares, or his PTSD acting up and making him hypervigilant. Instead, Oliver responds simply, “Can’t sleep without you beside me.”

Felicity bows her head, exhaling. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I started sleeping in a separate bed because I wanted you to get _more_ rest, not less.”

“I worry about you.” He continues pressing his lips to her skin delicately, kissing down her neck to her shoulder. Swallowing, Felicity closes her eyes and leans back against him, basking in the affection. “I worry about Lucas and Tommy. I can’t relax if I don’t know the three of you are safe.”

Waiting as Oliver pours the hot cocoa into a mug for her, Felicity takes it when he pulls it toward them, sipping with a satisfied hum. It always tastes better when her boyfriend makes it for her. “Boys are fine.” She uses her free hand to flatten Oliver’s against the bump, so he can feel the twins’ minuscule movements. “Lively as ever.”

“Are they making it harder to sleep?”

“Not really,” Felicity says. “But I imagine that in a month or so, when they’re born, they’ll be the main reasons for us being insomniac.”

Oliver nods. “Right. We’ll have to wake up every three hours to feed them.”

Felicity raises an eyebrow over her mug. “‘We’?”

“Hey, we’re both their parents, it’s only fair that we take shifts.”

“Hmm, I suppose.” The blonde tilts her head thoughtfully. “I guess I’ll have to plan a schedule for pumping then, so you can feed them while I sleep.”

Oliver goes still, peering down at her with a faint frown. “I just realized, we haven’t really talked about that.”

“About what?”

“Breastfeeding vs formula feeding.”

Felicity puts her half a mug of cocoa down on the counter. “Oh. Yeah, we haven’t. I want to breastfeed. I read a load of articles and… I know there’s a whole debate about breast milk vs formula nutrition, but I kind of want to do it for the bonding you know? With two of them, we’ll have to split our attention between them anyway. Breastfeeding gives me personal time with them both. And then I read that weaning them off as we introduce them to solid foods around the four-month mark is the best way to get them to switch to formula.” She pauses and then asks anxiously, “Is that okay?”

“That was always your decision to make,” Oliver assures her softly. “If you want to breastfeed the boys, then you’ll breastfeed them.”

“I love our late night conversations.” Felicity runs her finger around the rim of her mug. “One of the only benefits of sleeplessness.”

“Finish that cocoa and then come to bed,” the archer says.

She sighs. “Oliver…”

“I did some research,” he insists. “I think I know some ways I can help you beat this insomnia.”

“You do?” Felicity turns to him, interested.

Oliver smirks. Now she’s facing him, he smooths his palms down her sides to her hips suggestively. “Yep.”

“Oh.” Eyes widening, Felicity breathes out shakily. “Okay.”

She drains her cup of cocoa in record time, trying not to burn her tongue or the roof of her mouth in her eagerness. Oliver waits for her patiently with dark eyes, and as soon as she’s placed the empty mug in the sink, he takes charge. Grasping her wrist firmly, but not tight enough to hurt her, the archer leads her upstairs to their bedroom. Felicity’s knees are wobbling by the time he gently pushes her toward the bed, heat blossoming in her abdomen because of the way Oliver runs his gaze up and down her hungrily.

She scoots back, struggling because of her baby bump, but Oliver aids her in taking her sweatpants off, his thumbs stroking over the seams of her underwear. Because all her usual cotton pairs are in the laundry at the moment, she’s wearing a thin lacy pair, dark green in color - a pair that Thea jokingly bought for her as a maternity baby shower gift - and Oliver emits a growl at the sight, looking even more aroused, if that’s even possible.

In the next ten minutes, Oliver devours her. He starts off tenderly, using his fingers to get Felicity worked up into a frenzy, and then uses that stupidly amazingly skilled mouth of his to bring her to the brink of orgasm, excellent usage of his tongue and thumb shoving her over that edge and into a whitewash of pleasure.

Before Felicity can offer to return the favor in her post-climax bliss, the archer is crawling up beside her, cleaning his hands off with a wetwipe to begin massaging her lower back while she lies on her side. It’s _incredible_ \- maybe even better than the sex. His fingers work into her tight muscles, releasing knots of tension Felicity had no idea were there; Oliver uses his knuckles to knead deeper along her spine, and it makes the blonde groan in delight.

“You’re being louder now that my hands are _above_ your waist,” the archer chuckles, chuckling as he ducks down to kiss her shoulderblade, sweeping her hair to the side so he can massage from her shoulders down.

“In another life, you would have made a fantastic masseur,” she slurs. “Tommy and Lucas agree.”

“No, I only give massages to my wonderful pregnant girlfriend.” Oliver uses the ball of his hand to press hard into a particularly large knot near the base of her spine; Felicity keens at the throbbing pain as it’s released, but she purrs in relief when it fades, leaving behind a sore, yet unclenched muscle. “There’s only one person who fits that description. And you, my love, are utterly unique.”

“I love you,” Felicity moans, clutching at his knee. “Your hands are magic.”

“You have said before that I have magic fingers.” Oliver winks, giving her a wicked grin.

“Yes, you are very talented.”

Thanks to the orgasm and massage Oliver gives her, Felicity finally relaxes enough to drift off to sleep just as the sun is peeking over the horizon. Exhausted, the archer collapses down beside her, curling up and passing out almost immediately. They wake up the next afternoon together for the first time in three days after eight hours of sleep, and Felicity feels a hundred times better than she did yesterday.

“I suppose I’ll be sending you off to sleep with an orgasm and a back massage every night, then, until this pregnancy insomnia stops,” Oliver muses, as he serves her breakfast.

“Mm-hmm.” Felicity pops half a strawberry in her mouth with an innocent look. “And maybe most nights after it stops, as well?”

“Just lie and tell me you’re still not sleeping well,” he snickers.

“You’re such a lovely boyfriend.”

Oliver preens. “I aim to please.”

Once the archer returns to making pancakes, Felicity sits back in her chair, patting her baby bump. “Hello nightly sexual satisfaction, goodbye insomnia,” she whispers to herself, smirking.


	10. Others Meeting Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set right after chapter 12
> 
> oliver's pov, thea, john, quentin and william meeting the twins :)

Oliver waits outside the hospital room where his fiancee is currently lying in bed with their two newborn sons for their team to arrive, so they can meet the twins for the first time. The recruits have already met Lucas and Tommy, of course, since they came to the hospital when Felicity and John were kidnapped to protect the twins. But Thea, Quentin, and John, all who were on Lian Yu after being abducted and taken there by Chase, haven’t met the boys yet. And what Oliver is most excited about is introducing his twelve-year-old son William to his little brothers. He spoke to William during the journey back to Starling City; he’s delighted that the boy wants the archer involved in his life, and wants to be a big brother to the twins.

He hears the team before he sees them. Exhilarated chatter echoes down the corridor. Oliver chuckles when Samantha’s exasperated voice calls for William to stop running. A vibrating ball of teenager crashes into Oliver seconds later, and it’s only thanks to Oliver anticipating it and planting his feet that they don’t go flying. Pain flares up because of his cracked collarbone, but he’s on heavy-duty painkillers and has his upper torso wrapped, so thankfully it doesn’t hurt too much.

William peers up Oliver with wide, shining eyes, bouncing with excitement. “I get to meet my brothers?” he asks.

The archer laughs. “You sure do.” He glances up as the rest of the group approaches. Thea is similarly eager, while Quentin and John appear calmer, although Oliver can tell by the gleam of their eyes that they’re just as desperate to meet the twins. Samantha is looking at William with a stern look, but seems to have given up on trying to rein him in. “Felicity’s exhausted and the boys are tired, so please try and keep your voices down and don’t be… too enthusiastic.”

“But I will get to hold my nephews?” Thea questions sharply, crossing her arms over her chest

“Yes, you will,” Oliver rolls his eyes.

She looks relieved. “Good. I’ve been waiting nine months for this.”

“Um, technically only seven,” Oliver points out.

She shoots him a half-hearted glare. “Hey, stop stalling! We want to meet Lucas and Tommy!”

“Yeah, man, don’t keep us waiting any longer,” John snickers.

Willing tugs at his t-shirt, giving him puppy dog eyes that Oliver just knows that Felicity would call a classic Queen move. “C’mon, Dad, please?” he needles.

Hearing the twelve-year-old calling him ‘dad’ is what causes him to give in. Sighing, the archer opens the hospital door with a smile, motioning them inside with his head. Thea rushes in first, followed by William, who is urged ahead by John with a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Although Oliver invites Samantha inside, she elects to stay and wait in the corridor. By the expression on her face, Oliver can tell that she feels uncomfortable about interrupting what is obviously going to be a big family moment - because although William is the son of both of them, and will be Felicity’s future step-mother, Samantha was the one trying to keep William away from them both in the first place. Oliver texts Evelyn discretely before heading into the hospital room; there’s no telling how long William is going to want to stay, but he reckons it will be over thirty minutes. Samantha will probably appreciate some company.

When he enters the room, Oliver instantly breaks out into a huge grin, his heart fluttering warmly. Felicity is lying on her medical bed with Lucas and Tommy resting on her chest, but she looks like she’s about to drop off to sleep, her eyes half-lidded as she smiles at their friends and family. William has seated himself on the chair Oliver was sitting in before, and has gone silent with wonder as he stares at his little brothers. Thea and John have drawn up chairs on the other side of the bed and seem to be equally in awe, while Quentin stands behind them. He was shot in the back of the thigh - grazed, really - so sitting down is more painful than standing. The man actually looks as if he’s… crying? Yeah, he’s definitely crying.

“They’re adorable,” Thea whispers fiercely. “Oh my god, I could practically _eat them up_.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for babies to be this small,” John murmurs, reaching out with a finger to poke at Lucas’ little hand until the baby wraps it around his finger. “JJ wasn’t anywhere near this tiny.”

“JJ was a week overdue,” Felicity remembers. “These two are early.”

Quentin shakes his head, glancing between the two new parents. “It’s unbelievable to think that you two… _made_ them.”

“That makes it sound like we slapped them together with superglue and sticky tape,” Oliver snorts. “And Felicity gets a majority of the credit for those two. She incubated them for nine months.”

“And now _you_ are making it sound like Lucas and Tommy were born from eggs that Felicity just sat on and kept warm,” Thea laughs.

Oliver approaches to perch on the end of the bed, poking at the blonde’s feet until she moves them, smirking at him. Tommy stretches out on her chest, yawning theatrically, much to everybody’s delight. Catching sight of William’s hesitant and slightly scared expression, he encourages him gently, “You can touch them, Will, they’re not going to bite.”

“Better yet, you can hold one of them,” Felicity offers. “I really need to go pee. Thea, you can take Tommy - he’s fussy, though, and alarmingly energetic. But you can take Lucas, William. He’s very quiet.” She winks at John and Quentin. “You two will have to wait your turn.”

Sensing that William is still uncertain, Oliver shifts on the bed until he’s sitting closer to Felicity’s head, so he can carefully take Lucas into his arms. The baby scrunches up his face, unhappy at being removed from his mother, but his relaxed demeanor means that he doesn’t cry. His little hat is knocked off during the move; the archer tugs it back on over his fragile head. The infant’s tuft of blond hair is twisted into light natural curls that Oliver knows he gets from his mom. He cautiously transfers the newborn into the teenager’s grasp, correcting his cradle so that he supports the baby’s head.

“Why is he so...” William struggles for the correct word for a second, “... Wrinkly?”

The archer snorts. “It’s because he’s a week premature,” he explains. “And hasn’t been eating very well without Felicity. Once he and Tommy put on some extra weight, they’ll have that perfect smooth baby skin that everybody talks about.”

Once he’s reassured that William is holding his little brother safely, Oliver leans back. There are tears in his eyes as he watches his twelve-year-old son fawning over his baby brother. His entire world has shifted on its axis - for the better. This is what Oliver has always wanted: a family.

The magical moment is sort of broken when Tommy begins screaming as soon as Felicity passes him off to Thea. For a brief moment, Thea looks taken back and terrified of holding a wiggling, wailing infant, but she breathes a sigh of relief when Tommy finally quietens down, his blanket tucked around him. As soon as she’s sure that both the babies are content, and William and Thea aren’t panicking, she silently requests John’s help to get over to the bathroom. She can’t walk with her microchip still not working properly, with the hack by Chase still in effect. Oliver is confused for a moment why Felicity would request to be carried by John, instead of him, but then sees the pointed look his fiancee sends him; she wants him to stay with the twins to make sure they’re safe. It’s not as if she distrusts Thea or William with their sons - she’s just understandably paranoid after everything that has happened over the last couple of days, and doesn’t want Tommy and Lucas out of their sights.

“You can see without a doubt that they’re Smoak-Queens,” Quentin comments. “Look at those blue eyes.”

“All babies have blue eyes, Quentin,” Thea replies, her voice quiet as to not disturb Tommy, who is close to falling asleep in her arms. “But… yeah, I have to admit, they’re ocean blue. Just like Ollie and Felicity’s.” She grins wickedly at her brother. “I always did say you two would have beautiful blond babies.”

“Tommy’s got brown hair,” Oliver tells her. “Like you.”

“Like me!” William pipes up, rocking Lucas gently on his lap.

The archer ruffles the twelve-year-old’s hair fondly. “Yeah, like you, bud.”

John returns with Felicity about five minutes later, carrying her from the bathroom. She looks vaguely uncomfortable and ashen, so Oliver hastily gets her back into bed and calls a nurse to get her hooked up to painkillers. Once she’s got an IV in her arm pumping some drugs, Felicity relaxes again and, to nobody’s surprise after the week she’s had, announces that she’s not moving for the next twenty-four hours. Bending down, Oliver presses a kiss to the top of her head and then, when Felicity tilts her chin up eagerly, kisses her briefly on the lips as well, making it short and chaste, as he’s aware that they have an audience.

Now that their best friend is back, John gets the chance to hold the infant they’ve (middle) named after him. With practiced ease, he plucks Lucas from William’s arms, examining the infant’s face precisely and slowly grinning. He can only hold Lucas with one arm, as his other one was injured on the island, but that one arm is twice as big as the baby anyway.

“Hello, Mister Lucas John Smoak-Queen,” he says seriously. “I can already tell you’re going to be keeping your mom and dad on their toes.”

“I think it’s Tommy who’s going to be making mischief.” Thea struggles to adjust her arms to account for the baby’s squirming. “God, he’s wriggly. Quentin, do you want to hold him? If you think you can handle him, that is.”

Quentin steps forward to take Tommy from her, resting him against his shoulder rather than cradling him, one of his hands supporting his back and looking giant because of how small the baby is. “Sara was an escape artist when it came to people holding her, and yet I never dropped her once. I think I’ve still got those moves in the bag for Oliver and Felicity’s kids.”

“Yes, please do not drop my sons,” Felicity says dryly. “I spent three quarters of a year of blood, sweat, and tears growing them inside me.”

Oliver squeezes her hand, trying to show some silent appreciation of all the effort and hardships his fiancee went through to bring the twins into the world. Felicity shoots him a grateful look and tightens her fingers around his, before focusing her attention back on Quentin and John with the boys.

“I think you’re a total badass,” William tells her, admiration in his voice.

“Hey, language,” Oliver chides gently, although he’s too amused to be angry.

“She is!” William insists. “Nobody who’s not cool and brave would be able to give birth to a baby, let alone two of them!”

“Technically I didn’t give birth to them, Will, I had a C-section that I wasn’t even awake for,” Felicity laughs. “But thank you for the compliment.”

“You’re still awesome in my eyes.”

“And in mine,” Oliver agrees.

“And all of ours,” John nods, motioning at Thea and Quentin, who are both bobbing their heads as well.

At that point, Tommy releases a wail of discontentment, fussing against Quentin’s shoulder. Oliver can tell instinctively that it’s because the baby wants his mother; he rushes forward to grasp the infant and carry him back to Felicity, who eagerly holds her arms out and sighs happily when Tommy is returned to her. When the archer turns around, John is standing right behind him with Lucas to place on Felicity’s chest as well, as the second twin started fussing when he heard his brother’s cries.

“Tommy cries _super_ loud,” William says, helping spread a blanket over the top of his future stepmother and little brothers, to keep them warm.

“He has _super_ lungs, that’s why,” Thea grins, teasing Oliver by adding, “Must have got them from you. Mom always said that when you were a baby, you cried so loudly that the neighbors five miles away would be kept up all night.”

Felicity grimaces, although only fleetingly, as Lucas giving the cutest little yawn makes her smile. “I hope they don’t cry all night. Although I think that might be hoping for too much.”

“Oh, they’re definitely going to cry.” Oliver strokes his fingertips over the backs of the twins’ delicate heads. “But that’s okay. I have the feeling that having each other is going to comfort them.” Spotting how Felicity is struggling to keep her eyes open due to exhaustion, he turns to the others apologetically and tells them quietly, “I think it might be best if Felicity gets some rest.” Everybody nods understandingly; William looks a little disappointed. The archer rubs his shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy, I’m sure your mom will let you come and visit your little brothers again soon.”

William, however, does not look reassured. “Mom’s not gonna make us go and live in hiding again, is she? I don’t want to live in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles away from you.”

Oliver makes a mental note to discuss with Samantha as soon as he’s able to about her future plans concerning herself and William, because he feels the same way as his son - he would much rather have William live closer, perhaps even in the city. He wants to arrange shared custody, so that William can spend time with him, Felicity and the twins. He does not, unfortunately, have any idea if Samantha will agree to that, though. He doesn’t want to turn this into a court battle, but he will fight for his son if he has to. Felicity feels the same way and is willing to support him, if the determined look she sends him is any indication.

“Everything will be fine,” he tries to assure the teenager. It’s a non-committal answer, and William isn’t all too pleased with it, but he accepts it nonetheless.

They all exchange rounds of hugs before John, Quentin, Thea and William depart, everybody taking an extra minute to whisper goodbye to the twins, who at this point have fallen fast asleep on Felicity. Thea is sorting out things for Samantha and promises the archer under her breath that she’ll make sure that William is kept safe. Oliver ducks out of the hospital room long enough to say goodbye to the recruits, who have congregated outside in the corridor; two members of the team will remain on duty to protect Felicity, Lucas, and Tommy at all times, and tonight Dinah and Rory will be on watch.

When he returns, Felicity is fast asleep with the twins also napping. While Oliver doesn’t want to disturb any of them, he remembers Dr Schwartz telling them earlier that Lucas and Tommy should really be sleeping in their bassinet so they can be medically monitored. It takes some effort to carefully extract each infant from Felicity’s grasp, and the sleeping blonde frowns in her slumber, as if sensing Oliver taking them away. Thankfully, neither of the boys wake up during the transfer into their bassinet, and they curl up together under the blanket, hands touching. It’s adorable.

It’s as Oliver is taking a seat near Felicity’s beside but also next to the bassinet, fully planning to try and sleep himself despite how awful his chair is, that she stirs and mumbles, “Ol’ver?”

He grips her hand tightly. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’re all fine. Tommy and Lucas are sleeping in their bassinet. You can nap.”

Felicity hums and drifts back off to sleep peacefully.

Oliver is quick to follow, finally feeling for the first time in days that he can let his guard down. Felicity and the twins are safe and sound, Prometheus has been dealt with and will never be a problem again, and he won’t be needed as the mayor or the Green Arrow for the next twenty-four hours. Today and tonight, he can rest and enjoy being with his family.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed x
> 
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> tumblr: @alexiablackbriar


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